of  Prmr>% 


sac 


THE 


NEW  YORK    PULPIT 


THE  REVIVAL  OF  1858. 


THE 


^    JUL  13  W^^7  ^ 


]^EW  TOEK  PIT 


IN 


THE  REVIVAL  OF  1858 


51  BBmnriitl  SnluntB 


SERMONS 


NEW  YOKK: 
SHELDON,  BLAKEMAN  k     CO 

CINCINNATI:  RICKEY,  MALLORY,  &  CO. 

1858. 


Entered  jiccording  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1S58,  by 

SHELDON,  BLA.KEMAN  A   CO., 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States,  for  the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


W.  H.  TiNsoN,  SU^rt'otyjier.  Geo.  Rhssbll,  &  Co.,  Priutera. 


If 


JAMES  W.  ALEXANDER,  D.D. 
WILLIAM   ADAMS,  D.D. 
GEORGE  W.  BETHUNE,  D.D. 
WM.  IVES  BUDINGTON,  D.D. 
SAMUEL   D.  BURCHARD,  D.D. 
REV.  RUFUS  W.  CLARK. 
BENJAMIN  F.  CUTLER,  D.D. 
REV.  THEODORE  L.  CUTLER. 
WILLIAM  HAGUE,  D.D. 
EDWIN  F.  HATFIELD,  D.D. 
EDWARD  T.  HISCOX,  D.D. 
ROSWELL  D.  HITCHCOCK,  D.D. 
MANCIUS  S.  HUTTON,  D.D. 
JOHN  KENNADAY,  D.D. 
JOHN  M.  KREBS,  D.D. 
EDWARD  LATHROP,  D.D. 
JOHN  M'CLINTOCK,  D.D. 
JOEL  PARKER,  D.D. 
JESSE  T.  PECK,  D.D. 
GEORGE  POTTS,  D.D. 
ASA  D.  SMITH,  D.D. 
RICHARD   S.  STORRS,  Jr.,  D.D. 
JOSEPH  P.  THOMPSON,  D.D. 
THOMAS  E.  VERMILYE,  D.D.,  LL.D. 
WILLIAM  R.  WILLIAMS,  D.D. 


pmiiGaTOiT    1,, 


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'*>is.^  £■  .V)TrVTT-?/^>Ijr^.^' 


CONTENTS 


I. 

PAoa 
THE  HOLY  FLOCK, IB 

James  W.  Alexander,  D.D. 

II. 

RELIGIOUS  CONVERSATION, 88 

Rev.  Rufus  W.  Clark. 

III. 
PAST  FEELING, 60 

Rev.  Theo.  L.  Ctttler. 

lY. 
WHY  WILL  YE  DIE  ?  61 

B.  F.  Cutler,  D.D. 

V. 

THE  WISE  DECISION, 74 

Edward  Lathrop,  D.D. 

VI. 

I  CHRIST  AT  THE  DOOR, 85 

George  W.  Bethune,  D.D. 

vil 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

VII. 

PAOB 

UNANSWERED  PRAYERS, 9*7 

George  Potts,  D.D. 

VIII. 

MAN'S  PRIDE,  OR  GOD'S  GRACE, 112 

Joseph  P.  Thompson,  D.D. 

IX. 

TEARS  AT  THE  JUDGMENT, 127 

John  M.  Krebs,  D.D. 

X. 

TRUE  REPENTANCE, 144 

William  Hague,  D.D. 

XL 
SEEKING  THE  LORD  SO  AS  TO  FIND  HIM,    .        .        .        .167 
Joel  Parker,  D.D. 

XII. 
THE  WAR  WHICH  KNOWS  NO    EXEMPTS,  AND  GIVES  NO 

QUARTER, Ill 

'^  William  R.  Williams,  D.D. 

XIII. 
COMING  TO  CHRIST, 187 

M.  S.  HuTTON,  D.D. 

XIV. 
WHAT  SHALL  I  DO  TO  BE  SAVED? 197 

W.    I.   BUDINGTON,    D.D. 

XV. 

MEN  TO  BE  RECONCILED  TO  GOD,  THROUGH  CHRIST,       .     207 
R.  S.  Storrs,  jr.,  D.D. 


CONTENTS.  IX 

XVI. 

PAGB 

THE  ANCIENT  WORTHIES  OUK  EXAMPLE,    .         .         .         .226 
Thomas  E.  Vermilye,  D.D.,  LL.D. 

XVII. 
INCENTIVES  TO  SEEK  COMPANIONSHIP  WITH  ISRAEL,      .     248 
John  Kennadat,  D.D. 

XVIIL 
THE  CROSS  CONTEMPLATED, 263 

Edward  T.  Hiscox,  D.D. 

XIX. 

THE  STRAIT  GATE, 2^78 

John  M'Clintock,  D.D. 

XX. 

MAN'S  PERDITION  NOT  OF  GOD, 289 

Edwin  F.  Hatfield,  D.D. 

XXI. 
DUTY  OF  REPENTANCE, 308 

Asa  D.  Smith,  D.D. 

XXII. 
RELIGIOUS  INSENSIBILITY, 821 

S.    D.    BURCHARD,    D.D. 

XXIII. 

TRUE  RELIGION  A  SERVICE, 339 

RoswELL  D.  Hitchcock,  D.D. 

XXIV. 
THE   LIFE   BATTLE, 359 

Jesse  T.  Peck,  D.D. 

XXV. 
NOT   FAR  FROM   THE   KINGDOM   OF   GOD,  .        .        .        .882 
William  Adams,  D.D. 
1* 


^ortaiy  CF 


^T   PEIHGBTGrf     X 


PUB 


The  great  Revival  of  1858  will  be  memorable  in  the 
history  of  the  Church  of  God.  In  the  features  of  its 
commencement  and  its  progress  it  has  been  so  mani- 
festly marked  by  the  power  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  that 
men  with  one  accord  are  willing  to  give  God  the  glory 
of  the  work. 

In  the  city  of  E"ew  York  and  in  its  vicinity  it  has 
been  in  many  respects  more  remarkably  developed  than 
in  any  other  part  of  the  country.  Here  emphatically  it 
has  been  "  ITot  by  might,  nor  by  power,  but  by  the 
Spirit."  It  has  been  characterized  by  united,  fer- 
vent, and  importunate  prayer.  God  has  appeared  for 
the  salvation  of  sinners,  and  multitudes  have  been 
converted  to  Christ.  The  revival  has  been  confined  to 
no  part  of  the  city,  and  to  no  section  of  the  Church. 
Christians  of  various  names  have  cordially  united  in 
the  work,  and  God  has  blessed  them  all  with  the  out- 
pouring of  his  Spirit.  The  measures  employed  have 
been  the  ordinary  and  appointed  means  of  grace — the 
preaching  of  the  word,  and  prayer. 

The  publishers  of  this  volume,  believing  that  Chris- 
tians in  other  parts  of  the  country  will  be  glad  to  enjoy 
some  of  those  exhibitions  of  truth  which  God  has  so 
peculiarly  owned  and  blessed  in  the  great  metropolis, 


Xll  PEEFACE. 

have  requested  a  number  of  ministers,  of  different  deno- 
minations, to  furnish  one  of  their  ordinary  discourses 
delivered  in  the  midst  of  the  present  great  Awakening, 
for  the  purpose  of  making  a  Memorial  Yoltjme  of  this 
work  of  God.  Most  of  those  clergymen  to  whom  appli- 
cation was  made,  have  kindly  and  cheerfully  complied 
with  our  request.  They  have  each  given  us  a  sermon 
prepared  with  no  thought  of  its  going  beyond  the 
hearing  and  the  hearts  of  their  own  congregation. 
The  sermon  is  in  no  respect  intended  to  exhibit  the 
learning  or  the  ability  of  the  preacher,  but  rather  to  be 
a  specimen  of  the  truth,  and  the  manner  in  which  it  has 
been  presented  by  various  eminent  clergymen  in  the 
ordinary  ministrations  of  the  Sabbath.  These  pages 
are  the  earnest,  pungent  expression  of  their  heart  and 
mind,  at  a  time  when  God  is  doing  great  things  in  their 
churches,  whereof  they  are  glad.  And,  although  they 
would  not  have  committed  these  sermons  to  the  press 
had  they  looked  merely  to  the  praise  of  men,  tliey  are 
willing  that  we  should  send  them  forth  to  be  read  in 
public  and  private,  in  city  and  country,  in  the  remotest 
regions  where  our  language  is  spoken,  as  their  testi- 
mony to  the  truth,  and  to  its  simj)le  power  under  the 
Holy  Spirit  in  turning  men  from  the  error  of  their 
ways  to  the  love  and  service  of  God.  The  limits  of 
this  book  preclude  the  use  of  sermons  by  many  others 
whose  labors  have  been  greatly  blessed,  and  which  we 
still  hope  to  give  to  the  j^ublic  in  a  future  volume. 
That  the  present  volume  may  be  widely  and  perma- 
nently useful  is  the  desire  of  the  publishers. 


THE  ^^^^^l^l^^i'ULPIT, 


IN   THE 


REVIVAL   OF  1858. 


I. 

THE  HOLY  FLOCK. 

BY    JAMES    W.    ALEXANDER,  D.D. 

Minister  of  the  Jflineteenth  Street  Presbyterian  Church, 

Thus  saith  the  Lord  God  :  I  will  yet  for  this  be  inquired  of  by  the  house 
of  L'^rael,  to  do  it  for  them  :  I  will  increase  them  with  men  like  a  flock.  As 
the  holy  flock,  as  the  flock  of  Jerusalem  in  her  solemn  feasts. — Ezekiel, 
xxxvi.  37,  38. 

When  Israel  in  the  text  is  encouraged  to  inquire  of 
God,  we  may  apply  it  to  ourselves  ;  for  if  we  confine  all 
the  more  ancient  Scriptures  to  tlie  literal  Hebrews,  we 
condemn  much  apostolic  reasoning,  and  cut  ourselves 
off  from  precious  promises. 

The  text  predicts  a  great  increase.  "  I  will  increase 
them  with  men  like  a  flock,  or  with  flocks  of  men  :  as 
the  holy  flock,  or  the  flock  of  holy  ones,  as  the  flock  of 
Jerusalem  in  her  solemn  feasts."  At  the  three  great 
festivals,  Jerusalem  was  crowded  both  with  animals  and 
men.  One  or  both  of  these  may  furnish  the  comparison. 
K  the  figure  points  at  the  multitude  of  animals  gathered 

13 


14  THE    NEW   YORK    PULPIT. 

for  sacrifice,  we  may  remember  the  passover  at  which 
Hezekiah  and  the  princes  gave  the  congregation  seven- 
teen thonsand  sheep  ;  or  the  subsequent  passover,  at 
which  Josiah  gave  the  thirty  thousand  lambs  and  kids : 
if  it  i>oints  at  the  multitude  of  worshippers,  we  may 
remember  their  temple  psalm,  "  We  are  his  people,  and 
the  sheep  of  his  pasture."  But  whether  the  former  or 
the  latter,  the    church   is  to  be   enlarged  with  an 

IMMENSE  INCREASE,  AND  WE  ARE  TO  PRAY  FOR  IT. 

Two  things  commonly  lead  to  prayer :  first,  some 
desirableness  in  the  object;  and  secondly,  some  expect- 
ation of  being  heard.  Accordingly,  the  text,  under  a 
striking  figure,  holds  forth  a  desirable  object,  and  excites 
the  confidence  that  God  will  entertain  our  petition.  The 
latter,  though  a  most  important  truth,  is  not  peculiar  to 
this  subject,  but  common  to  all  the  themes  of  prayer.  It 
is  allowable,  therefore,  to  assume  your  belief  that  God 
is  the  hearer  of  prayer  ;  that  what  he  has  promised  he 
will  perform  ;  and  that  he  will  be  inquired  of  in  order 
to  bless;  while  we  occupy  our  time  cliiefiy  with  an 
attempt  to  show  the  desirableness  of  the  blessing  pro- 
mised. 

A  strange  incredulity  has  occupied  the  minds  of  some 
with  regard  to  Revivals  of  Religion.  The  term  may 
not  be  wisely  chosen,  and  the  thing  itself  has  doubtless 
been  often  counterfeited  ;  but  that  it  is  agreeable  to  the 
divine  will,  and  analogous  to  the  economy  of  grace,  that 
great  enlargement  should  be  granted  to  the  church,  at 
favored  seasons,  it  is  wonderful  that  any  can  question  ; 
and  my  humble  but  earnest  endeavor  shall  this  morning 
be,  to  hold  this  particular  blessing  so  long  in  the  rays 
of  light  beaming  from  Scripture  and  history,  as  shall  be 
necessary  to  make  every  candid  hearer  perceive  its 
glow  and  radiance  ;  so  that  some  at  least  may  cry  out 
with  desire,  saying,  for  the  sake  of  our  city,  our  beloved 


TMK    HOLT   FLOCK.  15 

land,  and  our  bursting  population — "  O  Lord,  revive  thy 
work  in  the  midst  of  the  years !" 

We  must  carefully  separate  the  Kevivai  of  Religion 
from  its  adjuncts  and  accessories ;  we  must  distinguish 
it  from  false  and  dangerous  excitements,  which  have 
usurped  its  name;  but  understanding  by  the  phrase 
such  an  influence  of  Divine  Grace  as  issues  in  the 
simultaneous  conversion  to  God  of  great  numbers,  we 
should  not  only  approve  it,  but  long  for  it. 

Such  an  increase  of  the  church  is  desirable,  because  it 
glorifies  God ;  because  it  is  the  very  end  for  which 
Christ  died  ;  because  it  is  the  method  in  which  God  has 
raised  his  church  to  its  most  remarkable  prosperity; 
and  because  it  is  demanded  by  the  present  state  of  our 
city  and  nation. 

Our  nation !  There  used  to  be  magic  in  the  word. 
Our  country  was  the  watchword  that  passed  with 
magnetic  swiftness  and  power  through  the  lines  of  our 
forefathers.  Has  it  ceased  to  charm  their  sons  ?  Have 
we  sunk  into  unpatriotic  selfishness  ?  Have  Christian 
souls  forgotten — can  they  forget — ^what  it  is  that  blesses 
a  country — that  righteousness  exalteth  a  nation — that 
the  Gospel  only  can  redeem  us  from  violence,  vice,  and 
damning  falsehood  ?  If  not,  we  shall,  as  Americans,  no 
less  than  as  Christians,  seek  for  a  vast  increase  of  suc- 
cess in  the  conversion  of  multitudes. 

I.  It  is  by  jrsT  such  extension  of  the  chuech  that 
God  has  chosen  to  glokift  his  name. — ^The  world  stands 
for  the  sake  of  the  church,  and  the  church  stands  to 
glorify  God;  "of  whom,  and  through  whom,  and  to 
whom  are  all  things."  The  conversion  of  souls  is  the 
restoration  of  rebellious  subjects,  who  thenceforward 
know  God,  adore  his  blessed  perfections,  do  him  homage 
and  service,  and  praise  him  to  all  eternity.     The  ascrip- 


16  THE   NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

tion  of  honor  from  all  redeemed  souls  is  the  same, 
whether  in  earth  or  in  heaven:  "Thon  art  worthy, 
O  Lord,  to  receive  glory  and  honor  and  power;  for 
thou  has  created  all  things,  and  for  thy  pleasure  they 
are  and  were  created."  K  the  divine  plan  is  so  accom- 
plished by  this  very  event,  that  there  is  joy  in  the  pre- 
sence of  the  angels  of  God  over  one  sinner  that  repenteth, 
how  much  more  shall  the  heavenly  chorus  be  swelled 
over  the  restoration  of  hundreds  and  thousands !  As 
every  Christian  feels  that  his  own  holiness  is  valuable, 
chiefly  because  it  is  a  tribute  to  the  declarative  glory  of 
the  Lord  Almighty ;  so  for  the  same  reason  he  desires  the 
holiness  of  all  his  fellow-men.  This,  then,  is  the  capital 
reason  which  should  prompt  us  to  seek  a  revival  of 
religion,  namely,  that  it  is  the  very  means  which  God 
has  chosen  to  glorify  his  name. 

U.  It  is  the  very  end  for  which  Christ  accomplished 
THE  PLAN  OF  REDEMPTION. — ^This  ingathering  of  souls  is 
the  covenant  recompense  of  our  adorable  Redeemer. 
"  When  thou  shalt  make  his  soul  an  offering  for  sin,  lie 
shall  see  Ms  seed^  he  shall  prolong  his  days,  and  the  plea- 
sure of  the  Lord  shall  prosper  in  his  hand.  He  shall  see 
of  the  travail  of  his  soul  and  shall  be  satisfied."  Such 
IS  the  representation  of  prophecy,  and  our  Lord's  own 
w^ords  declare  the  same  truth.  A  few  days  before  the 
final  passion,  when  certain  Greeks  desired  to  see  him, 
he  uttered,  as  he  sat  in  the  temple,  an  awful  proclama- 
tion of  his  certain  and  imminent  death,  and  at  the  same 
time  (plainly  struggling  with  a  conflict  which  antici- 
pated that  of  Gethsemane)  he  cried,  ''  Now  is  my  soul 
troubled  :  and  what  shall  I  say  ?  Father,  save  me  from 
this  liour :  but  for  this  cause  came  I  unto  this  hour. 
Father,  glorify  thy  name  !"  That  instant  came  there 
a  voice  from  heaven,  saying,  "  I  have  glorified  it  and 


THE    HOLY    FLOCK.  17 

will  glorify  it  again."  The  people,  therefore,  that  stood 
by  said  it  thundered ;  others  said,  "  an  angel  spake  to 
him."  But  Jesus  took  this  occasion  to  declare  his 
approaching  death ;  adding,  "  and  I,  if  I  be  lifted  up 
from  the  earth,  will  draw  all  men  unto  me."  Eemark- 
able  words ;  into  the  exposition  of  which  we  find  no 
time  to  enter  now,  but  which  might  furnish  profound 
meditation  for  the  reflecting  mind ;  as  they  show  beyond 
contradiction  that  the  conversion  and  restoration  of  a 
multitude  of  souls  is,  in  the  mind  of  Christ,  coupled  with 
the  most  tender  agonies  of  his  atoning  work.  His 
solace,  as  it  were,  over  the  cup  of  anguish,  is  the  vision 
of  many  sons  and  daughters  brought  to  glory.  The 
extension  of  the  church,  therefore,  by  the  addition  of 
great  numbers  of  converts,  is  desirable,  as  being  the 
very  end  for  which  Christ  accomplished  the  work  of 
redemption. 

TTT.  It  is  by  a  eapid  iNGATHERma  of  many  sotjls  that 
God  has  heketofore  condescended  to  elevate  his  chtjkch 
TO  its  highest  prosperity. — ^This  has  been  repeatedly  the 
case,  as  is  proved  by  the  most  familiar  ecclesiastical 
history.  We  need  not  dwell  a  moment  on  the  great 
and  simultaneous  conversion  of  multitudes  on  the  day 
of  Pentecost ;  but  we  may  well  give  attention  to  the 
fact,  that  from  that  time  forward,  until  Christianity 
had  reached  its  utmost  limits,  there  was  a  succession 
of  similar  awakenings.  In  other  words,  the  increase 
of  the  church  during  the  first  two  centuries  was  by  the 
rapid  accession  of  great  numbers,  rather  than  by  the 
gradual  adding  of  a  few  at  a  time,  after  long  intervals. 
That  this  is  true,  should  seem  undeniable,  when  we  take 
the  testimony  of  authentic  records  as  to  the  great  exten- 
sion of  the  church  within  a  comparatively  short  period. 
By  no  other  mode  of  increase  was  it  possible  for  a  diffu- 


18  THE   NEW   YORK    PULPIT. 

sion  of  the  truth,  so  speedy  and  so  wide,  to  have  been 
accomplished*.  It  has  been  stated  by  accurate  reckoners, 
well  versed  in  ecclesiastical  story,  that  there  has  never 
been  so  mighty  or  triumphant  an  onset  upon  the  powers 
of  darkness,  as  in  the  primitive  age,  and  that  the  church 
has  never  gained  so  much  upon  the  world  as  it  did 
before  the  death  of  the  last  apostle.  Ancient  waiters 
speak  of  the  increase  of  Christ's  kingdom  as  a  matter  of 
amazement.  Teetulliax,  for  example,  writing  about 
the  beginning  of  the  third  century  in  vindication  of  the 
new  religion,  says  to  the  Koman  authorities :  "  Though 
we  are  strangers  of  no  long  standing,  yet  we  have  filled 
all  places  of  your  dominions — cities — islands — corpora- 
tions— councils — armies — tribes — the  senate — the  palace 
— ^the  courts  of  judicature.  K  the  Christians  had  a  mind 
to  revenge  themselves,  their  numbers  are  abundant,  for 
they  have  a  party,  not  in  this  or  that  province  only,  but 
in  all  quarters  of  the  world.  INTay  if  they  were  to  com- 
bine and  forsake  the  Roman  empire,  how  vast  would  be 
the  loss !  The  world  would  be  amazed  at  the  solitude 
which  w^ould  ensue."  Upon  this  quotation  I  remark,  that 
such  an  extension  of  Christianity  presupposes  a  pro- 
gress of  the  work  of  conversion  immensely  more  rapid 
than  what  we  observe  in  this  city.  Tlie  very  persecu- 
tions prove  this  ;  there  must  have  been  a  great  amount 
of  fuel  to  support  such  fires.  Even  in  regions  of  Africa, 
which  are  now  a  desolation,  there  were  cities  and  pro- 
vinces of  Christians.  The  writer  just  cited,  in  an  appeal 
to  the  persecuting  governor  of  Africa,  says ;  "  If  you 
persevere  in  your  persecution,  what  will  you  do  with 
these  many  thousands,  both  men  and  women,  of  every 
rank  and  every  age,  who  will  promptly  offer  themselves  ? 
Carthage  itself  must  be  decimated."  And  again,  enu- 
merating the  nations  who  have  believed  in  Christ,  he 
declares  that  the  Gospel  has  penetrated  to  regions  which 


THE   HOLY    FLOCK.  19 

were  inaccessible  even  to  the  eagles  of  imperial  Rome, 
and  that  the  church  had  already  spread  itself  more 
widely  than  the  four  great  monarchies.  "Excellent 
governors,"  says  Tertnllian,  "  you  may  torment,  afflict 
and  vex  us ;  your  wickedness  puts  our  meekness  to  the 
test ;  but  your  cruelty  is  of  no  avail.  It  is  but  a  stronger 
invitation  to  bring  others  to  our  persuasion.  The  more 
we  are  mowed  down,  the  more  we  spring  up  again. 

ThE_BLOODjOFJEHJEiX/JHBISTL1NS4S_^^^  * 

These  facts  have  often  been  used,  with  good  reason,  as 
evidences  of  the  divine  origin  of  our  religion ;  but  they 
are  equally  strong  proofs  that  the  increase  of  the  church 
in  that  day  was  by  great  effusion,  sudden  reformation, 
and  something  like  simultaneous  ingathering  of  multi- 
tudes. And  when  this  mode  of  increase  was  exchanged 
for  that  slow  and  stealthy  progress  to  which  we  are 
familiarized,  it  is  to  be  observed  that  the  great  conquests 
of  religion  were  brought  to  a  stand,  and  the  Christian 
host  stopped  at  limits  which  succeeding  ages  of  effort 
have  scarcely  been  able  to  push  forward. 

Let  us  not,  however,  conceal  the  truth,  that  similar 
effusions  of  grace,  in  many  succeeding  centuries,  have 
had  analogous,  if  not  equal  effects.  It  should  seem,  that 
whenever  God  looks  down  in  special  mercy  on  his 
church,  the  rays  of  his  countenance  produce  a  vernal 
increase,  and  when  the  people  are  willing  in  the  day  of 
his  power,  converts  are  like  the  dew  drops  of  the  morn- 
ing. It  was  so,  from  time  to  time,  in  the  different 
countries  to  which  the  gospel  won  its  way.  It  was 
eminently  so  in  the  thirteenth  century,  when  the 
evangelical  servants  of  God  increased  so  mightily  that 
in  Bohemia  alone  there  were,  in  1315,  reckoned  no  less 
than  eighty  thousand  of  these  witnesses  for  the  truth. 

*  Semen  est  sanguis  Christianorum.     The  version  is  abridsred. 


20  THE   NEW    YORK   PULPIT. 

It  was  SO  ill  the  fourteenth  centuiy,  when  John  Wiclif, 
the  "  morning  star  of  the  Reformation,"  heralded  the 
dajspring  in  the  land  of  our  forefathers.  It  was  so  in 
the  fifteenth  century,  under  the  labors  of  John  Huss  and 
Jebome  of  Pkague  ;  and  most  signally  was  it  so  in  the 
great  revolution  by  means  of  Luther,  Zwingle,  and 
Calvin. 

Let  us  ask  your  attention  to  the  neglected  truth,  that 

WHAT  WE   CALL   THE   REFORMATION  WAS  A  GREAT   REVIVAL 

OF  RELIGION.  It  is  a  deplorable  error  to  consider  this 
moral  convulsion  as  a  mere  change  of  speculative  tenets, 
or  a  mere  struggle  for  liberty  of  conscieiice.  Both  these 
it  did  involve,  undoubtedly  ;  but  beneath  these,  vivify- 
ing and  nerving  these,  was  the  sense  of  spiritual  things, 
the  experience  of  conviction,  conversion,  holy  awe  and 
holy  joy,  the  gracious  affections  of  the  new  creature, 
which  j)ervaded  countries  and  traversed  a  whole  conti- 
nent. It  was  the  personal  interest  of  souls  in  agony 
about  escape  from  the  wrath  to  come,  which  gave  in- 
terest to  the  great  questions  between  Popery  and  Re- 
form. The  sudden  unveiling  of  the  long  hidden  Bible 
before  the  laity,  was  like  the  return  of  the  sun  upon  a 
Greenland  night.  The  entrance  of  the  ray  gave  under- 
standing to  the  simple ;  and  in  thousand  of  instances, 
the  rejection  of  Pelagian  error  and  the  acceptance  of 
Christ  were  contemporaneous  and  undistinguishable 
exercises.  Never,  certainly,  since  the  days  of  the  early 
Christians,  was  there  so  wide-spread  a  concern  about 
religion  ;  never  were  there  so  many  conversions.  The 
published  correspondence  of  the  Reformers,  and  particu- 
larly of  Martin  Luther  and  John  Calvin,  shows  that  a 
large  part  of  their  time  was  employed  in  giving  counsel 
and  consolation  to  inquiring,  convinced,  and  tempted 
individuals  ;  and  of  their  published  works,  considerable 
portions  are  wholly  employed  in  discussing  those  very 


THE    HOLY    FLOCK.  21 

points  whicli  have  paramount  interest  in  a  season  ot 
general  awakening.  The  good  and  great  men  who  were 
the  chief  instruments  in  this  amazing  revival  felt  and 
avowed  that  it  was  entirely  of  God — that  all  true  faith 
was  of  his  immediate  operation — and  that  nothing  but 
the  omnipotence  of  the  Spirit  could  produce  the  change 
which  they  observed  and  experienced.  Their  uniform 
language  on  this  point  was  a  reiteration  of  the  truth, 
"  Jesus" — "  having  received  of  the  Father  the  promise 
of  the  Holy  Ghost,  hath  shed  forth  this  which  ye  now 
see  and  hear."  And  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  the 
benign  work  did  not  abate  in  its  power  so  long  as  a  full 
tribute  of  praise  was  given  to  the  sovereignty,  and  mere 
grace  of  God,  in  applying,  as  well  as  providing,  the  way 
of  salvation.  Persecution  availed  as  little  as  it  had  done 
ten  or  twelve  centuries  before.  Even  Catholics  per- 
ceived this.  "  We  are  sufficiently  taught,"  says  Thuanus, 
in  his  famous  dedication  to  Henry  the  Great,  of  France, 
"  we  are  sufficiently  taught  by  experience  that  sword, 
fire,  banishment,  can  not  in  the  least  be  eftectual  against 
the  Eeformed  Religion,  but  tend  more  to  put  it  for 
ward.  In  this  very  kingdom,  we  see,  the  more  they  are 
pursued,  the  more  their  number  and  authority  increase, 
and  rather  seem  to  lose  ground  when  they  have  most 
outward  peace."  So  rapid  was  this  progress  that  in  less 
than  forty  years,  in  the  face  of  the  united  opposition  of 
the  Church  and  the  Empire,  against  all  proscription,  and 
in  spite  of  rack  and  fagot,  the  principles  of  evangelical 
religion  had  overspread  Germany,  France,  Switzerland, 
Holland,  and  the  British  isles.  It  was  an  outpourmg  of 
the  Spirit,  under  which  the  mountains  flowed  down  at 
His  presence,  with  a  converting  power  which  was  ac- 
knowledged by  tribes  and  nations.  How  idle  is  it,  then, 
to  dream  that  the  accession  of  great  multitudes  at  once  is 
not  agreeable  to  God's  way  of  dealing  with  his  church  ! 


22  THE   NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

The  remarkable  condition  of  religious  things,  among 
our  Puritan  and  Scottish  ancestors,  was  the  simple  con- 
sequence of  this  Eeforniation  Revival,  prosperously  car- 
ried out  a  ad  made  permanent.  The  work  of  grace  was 
upon  the  hearts  of  multitudes.  Never  since  apostolical 
days  has  religion  more  widely  pervaded  a  whole  com- 
munity. Men  of  the  world  may  sneer  at  the  narrow- 
ness, or  the  preciseness,  or  the  apparent  sanctimony  of 
the  better  sort  of  Puritans,  and  of  the  Reformed  in  Scot- 
land ;  but,  sneer  as  they  may,  they  are  forced  to  ac- 
knowledge that  these  men  had  virtue,  good  order,  cour- 
age, and  success.  The  final  cause  of  this,  so  far  as  we  of 
this  coimtry  are  concerned,  is  very  obvious.  Had 
British  America  been  colonized  immediately  on  the  dis- 
covery of  the  continent,  New  York,  or  whatsoever  great 
emporium  occupied  this  our  island,  would  probably  have 
been  popish  at  the  present  hour.  But  North  America 
was  planted  by  Protestants,  and  largely  by  a  race  of 
men  whose  whole  activity  owned  evangelical  religion  as 
its  animating  principle.  They  came  out  from  amidst 
great  awakenings  ;  and,  after  the  first  plantations,  every 
arrival  from  the  old  country  brought  them  news  of  the 
revivals  which  took  place  under  the  Bunyans  and  Bax- 
ters of  England. 

As  it  regards  Scotland,  we  may  judge  of  the  founda- 
tion by  the  structure.  Religion  made  its  conquests  with 
a  kind  of  triumphal  progress.  I  will  not  justify  all  that 
was  done ;  but  I  will  say,  and  challenge  contradiction, 
that  the  worst  offences  of  the  Scottish  Reformers  may 
well  be  forgotten  when  placed  in  comparison  with  the 
violence,  and  perfidy,  and  relentless  atrocity  of  their  en- 
emies, and  that  if  true  religion  of  the  heart  ever  existed 
among  men,  it  existed  among  the  Scottish  men  of  the 
first  and  second  Reformation  period.  The  subjugation 
of  a  whole  people  within  a  brief  period  to  the  principles 


THE   HOLY    FLOCK.  23 

of  the  gospel,  is  proof  that  the  church  was  increased 
with  rapidity,  and  by  large  accessions  ;  in  other  words, 
that  there  was  a  revival  of  religion,  even  in  the  modern 
sense  ;  and  such  augmentation  there  was  in  often-renewed 
visitations."  Again  and  again  the  inquiring  church  was 
increased  with  men  like  a  flock. 

To  omit  a  multitude  of  instances,  what  Scotsman  is 
there,  or  what  descendant  of  Scotsmen,  who  does  not 
recur  in  thought  to  the  wonderful  outpouring  of  the 
Spirit  in  the  parish  of  Shots  ?  It  was  on  that  occasion, 
during  the  preaching  of  John  Livingston,  ancestor  of 
the  late  venerable  divine  of  the  same  name,  under  a 
sermon  from  verses  preceding  my  text  (vv.  25,  26), 
that  several  hundred  persons  are  su23posed  to  have  been 
brought  under  saving  convictions  of  sin.  Though  the 
greatest,  it  was  not  the  sole  instance ;  nay,  there  were 
hundreds  of  the  same  kind,  but  less  in  degree. 

Again,  more  than  a  century  later,  in  1742,  at  Cam- 
buslang,  near  Glasgow,  among  the  same  people,  our 
ecclesiastical  ancestors — and  under  the  same  doctrines 
for  which  we,  like  themselves,  are  daily  called  in  ques- 
tion, there  was  a  revival  of  religion  in  which  there  were 
three  hundred  conversions  in  one  small  parish.  This 
extended  to  neighboring  parishes,  |)recisely  as  we  have 
witnessed  in  oui-  own  day,  when  the  like  blessed  influ- 
ences have  been  enjoyed  among  ourselves. 

Time  would  fail  me  if  I  were  to  open  the  interesting 
history  of  the  success  of  the  gospel  in  Germany,  under 
the  labors  of  Spenek,  Fkancke,  and  the  Pietists  of  Halle, 
as  they  were  called.  It  is  sufiicient  for  our  purpose  to 
say,  that  the  great  and  rapid  spread  of  religion  which 
accompanied  their  exertions,  aifords  only  another  proof 
of  the  pleasure  which  God  has  taken  in  communicating 
his  grace  copiously,  and  speedily.  But  I  cannot  pass 
from  these  examples  without  saying  that  our  own  coun- 


24  THE   NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

try  has  been  the  scene  of  just  such  blessed  events.  It 
is  now  more  than  a  hundred  years  since  the  whole  ISTorth- 
ern  and  Middle  States  began  to  shaken  by  the  voice  of 
God,  as  communicated  by  such  instruments  as  "White- 
field  and  the  Tennknts.  From  that  time  onwards  there 
was  a  series  of  revivals,  which  have  given  a  character 
to  our  population  which  no  opposing  influences  have  as 
yet  availed  to  erase.  After  the  men  just  named,  there 
were  none  more  remarkable  in  carrying  forward  this 
blessed  work,  than  the  first  five  Presidents  of  Prince- 
ton College :  Jonathan  Dickinson,  Aaron  Burr,  Jonathan 
Edwards,  Samuel  Davies,  and  Samuel  Finley.  Indeed, 
so  long  as  heart-religion  continues  to  be  cherished, 
the  extant  works  of  two  of  these  will  be  resorted  to 
as  incomparable  treasuries.  The  histories  of  that  day 
tell  us  of  revivals  in  all  the  region  around  us — scarcely 
a  town  which  is  not  named  as  the  theatre  of  such  trans- 
actions. And  I  must  be  allowed,  in  passing,  to  mention 
as  an  instance  of  the  interest  then  prevailing  as  to  the 
things  of  God,  that  in  the  spring  of  1740,  one  hundred 
and  eighteen  years  ago,  Mr.  Whitefi eld's  journal  con- 
tains an  entry  respecting  Nottingham,  a  place  not  far 
from  us,  and  well  known  to  us.  "  It  surprised  me,"  he 
writes,  "to  see  such  a  great  multitude  gathered  together 
at  so  short  a  warning,  and  in  such  a  desert  place.  Ile- 
Ueve  there  were  near  twelve  thousand  hearers.^''  The 
change  wrought  throughout  New  England  and  portions 
of  the  Middle  States,  was  indescribable.  I  have  counted 
the  signatures  of  more  than  a  hundred  pastors.  "  We 
look  upon  ourselves  and  all  the  ministers  and  people  of 
God  throughout  the  land,  [as]  laid  under  infinite  obliga- 
tions forever  to  admire  and  adore  such  free  and  sove- 
reign grace,  so  amazingly  displayed  in  visiting  a  profess- 
ing people,  in  a  day  of  such  general  security,  indolence, 
and  formality ;  causing  so  great  an  awakening  of  all  sorts 


THE   HOLY    FLOCK.  25 

of  persons,  and  bringing  such  numbers  of  different  ages 
hopefully  to  close  with  Jesus  on  the  self-denying  terms 
of  the  gospel,  so  as  that  it  hath  far  exceeded  any  hopes 
and  expectations  of  ours,  as  well  as  anything  of  this  na- 
ture we  ever  saw  in  our  day."  '^ 

Here  we  close  the  historical  summary,  being  willing 
to  confine  our  observations  to  the  revivals  of  former 
days,  of  which  the  instruments  and  the  subjects  have 
long  since  gone  to  their  account,  and  of  Avhich  we  can 
judge  with  more  impartiality,  now  that  the  fruits  of 
them  have  been  so  long  laid  up  in  the  garner  of  the 
Lord.  Enough  has  been  said  to  justify  the  statement 
that  it  is  by  revivals  of  religion  that  God  has  seen 
fit  to  elevate  his  church  to  its  seasons  of  highest  pros- 
perity. That  he  has  been  pleased  to  do  so  in  our  coun- 
try, in  former  days,  is  to  be  reckoned  among  his  greatest 
favors  to  our  nation.  For  no  man  can  tell  how  far 
astray  we  might  by  this  time  have  gone,  as  a  people, 
but  for  such  interpositions  of  grace  ;  and  none  can  cal- 
culate how  much  the  elevated  tone  of  moral  and  reli- 
gious feeling  which  still  exists  among  us,  is  due  to  the 
impressions  thus  made  upon  us  in  our  forming  state ; 
especially  as  the  generation  which  w^as  then  in  childhood 
and  youth,  was  the  very  one  which  was  in  maturity  when 
our  Fathers  remodelled  our  polity  at  the  Eevolution. 
By  which  I  am  naturally  led  to  observe,  in  the  fourth 
place,  that 

lY.  It  is  just   such  an   exte:nsion   of  the  chuech 

WHICH  IS   demanded  BY  THE  ACTUAL  STATE  OF  OUR   NATION. 

Of  all  Christian  nations,  America  is  that  which  most 
needs  genuine  revivals  of  religion.  It  is  because  the 
Lord  had  a  favor  unto  us  that  his  "  right  hand,  and  his 

*  Gillies's  Collections,  vol.  ii,,  pp.  314,  316. 
2 


26  THE    NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

arm,  and  the  light  of  his  countenance"  have  granted  to  iis 
more  such  seasons  than  to  any  other  people.  It  was  the 
bold  conjecture  of  Edwards,  that  the  latter-day  glory  is 
to  begin  in  America.  "  God  has  already  put  that  honor 
upon  the  other  continent,  that  Christ  was  born  there  lite- 
rally, and  there  made  the  purchase  of  redemption ;  so, 
as  Providence  observes  a  kind  of  equal  distribution  of 
things,  it  is  not  unlikely  that  the  great  spiritual  birth 
of  Christ,  and  the  most  glorious  application  of  redemp- 
tion, is  to  begin  in  this."  Even  admitting  this  to  be  a 
pleasing  dream,  our  country,  from  the  very  necessity  of 
the  case,  is  to  be  the  theatre  of  unprecedented  revolu- 
tions. Our  population,  our  extent,  our  government,  our 
common  language,  and  our  religious  freedom,  mark  us 
out  for  great  things — ^but  whether  good  or  evil — God 
knoweth.  It  is  the  belief  of  the  sagacious,  that  unless 
our  religious  growth  keep  pace  wdth  our  national 
increase,  we  shall  grow  up  to  sectional  feud,  factious  di- 
vision, disaster,  and  desolation ;  that  no  tardy,  languid, 
scarcely  perceptible  increase  of  religion  will  meet  the 
exigency ;  and  that  nothing  can  do  so  but  great  acces- 
sion to  our  churches,  produced  by  such  revivals  of  reli- 
gion as  we  hope  and  pray  may  be  granted  throughout 
the  length  and  breadth  of  our  land.  That  which  charac- 
terizes us  is  the  centrifugal  tendency  of  our  people,  and 
the  high  rate  of  their  increase.  Even  if  this  were  not 
the  case,  if  by  some  extraordinary  check  on  population, 
we  should  stand  where  we  are,  and  not  add  another  unit 
to  our  census,  we  should  still  need  a  large  measure  of 
salt  to  keep  us  from  ruin.  We  have  not  been  faithful 
to  the  deposit  with  which  we  are  intrusted.  From  the 
absurd  attempt  to  keep  up  religion  without  doctrine,  a 
large  part  of  the  present  generation  has  grown  up  already, 
w^ith  no  proper  safeguard  against  soul-destroying  error. 
Not  only  have  .they  no  tests  to  distinguish  Pelagian- 


THE   HOLY   FLOCK.  27 

ism  from  Gospel  grace,  but  tliey  even  learn  to  treat  with 
indifference  the  heresies  which  deny  the  atonement  and 
the  godhead  of  Jesus.  That  charity  which  believeth  all 
tilings  but  God's  truth,  opens  the  doors  to  a  fatal  reli- 
gious literature ;  in  which,  by  a  sort  of  universal  sol- 
vent, all  the  doctrinal  bones  of  theology  are  reduced  to 
a  gelatinous  mass  of  ambiguous  sentiment.  The  conse- 
quence is  easily  predicted.  In  stupid  dread  of  the 
catechism,  and  the  definitions  of  the  church,  these 
people  and  their  children  lose  all  sense  of  the  diversities 
of  creeds,  become  looser  and  more  ignorant  as  false- 
hood grows  familiar,  and  are  led  off  to  universalism  on 
one  side,  and  popery  on  the  other ;  or,  more  degrading 
and  ruinous  still,  to  Socinus,  Swedenborg,  familiar 
spirits,  or  the  Mormons.  We  have  not  been  laborious 
and  careful  for  the  perpetuity  of  the  truth.  We  have 
multitudes  among  us  who  are  losing  every  impression 
of  their  infancy,  becoming  latitudinarian  in  their  creed, 
relaxed  in  their  morals,  and  tending  towards  the  world 
from  whom  their  fathers  came  out.  We  have  a  mixed 
multitude  without  the  camp,  accompanying  our  march, 
who  ever  and  anon  fall  a  lusting  after  some  error  or 
some  wickedness.  Time  was,  when  the  population  of 
many  regions  of  America  was  almost  entirely  religious  : 
it  is  not  so  now.  Thousands  there  are,  even  of  those  who 
regularly  attend  public  worship,  who  have  no  theology, 
no  family  prayer,  no  catechizing,  who  care  for  no  diffe- 
rences of  doctrine,  and  whose  children  grow  up  even 
more  ignorant  than  themselves.  By  unavoidable  mix- 
tures and  alliances,  the  parents  have  learned  a  new 
dialect,  and  "  the  children  speak  half  in  the  speech  of 
Ashdod."  The  nature  of  genuine  piety  is  less  weiglied, 
less  understood.  The  agency  of  the  Holy  Spirit  has 
been  cast  into  the  shade  ;  new  and  dangerous  views  of 
regeneration  have  become  common;  while  the  tendeucv 


28  THE    NEW   YORK   PULPIT. 

lias  been  away  from  dependence  on  God,  and  towards  a 
religion  of  human  fabrication.  Even  the  traditionary 
reverence  of  our  people  for  revivals  lias  been  played 
upon  by  the  adversary,  and  we  have  had  the  name, 
without  the  reality,  and  have  been  called  upon  to  w^ink 
hard  at  error,  lest  we  should  fight  against  the  God  of 
truth.  Thus,  when  the  king  of  Egypt  took  away  from 
the  temple  the  shields  of  gold  which  Solomon  had  made, 
King  Kehoboam  made  in  their  stead  brazen  shields. 
The  name  was  as  before.  At  the  same  time  that  we 
were  doing  away  with  the  true  glory  of  revivals,  even 
the  sovereign  agency  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  changing 
the  depraved  nature,  we  were  in  some  places  laying 
mighty  stress  upon  certain  external  means  and  measures, 
which  are  questionable  at  best,  but  which,  when  erected 
into  sacraments,  are  like  the  brazen  serpent  I^ehushtan 
wliicli  Hezekiah  destroyed,  when  the  children  of  Israel 
burned  incense  to  it.  So  that  even  if  our  population 
were  not  to  increase,  we  should  need  the  reviving 
influences  of  God. 

But  the  supposition  is  violent  and  absurd.  We  do  in- 
crease by  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands.  Within  the 
old  thirteen  States  we  grow  by  myriads — and  what  shall 
I  say  of  the  States  and  territories  which  rise  like  an  ex- 
halation ?  Add  to  this  the  emigration  from  abroad  still 
pouring  in  on  us ;  and  then,  while  all  awake  with  this 
vision  of  the  future,  ask  yourselves.  Must  these  millions 
be  left  without  the  gospel  ?  or  can  the  gospel  reach  them, 
with  our  present  means  ?  Will  not  this  amazing  increase 
of  our  people  immeasurably  outstrip  the  column  of  reli- 
gious influences?  At  our  present  rate  of  march,  can  we 
even  keep  in  sight  of  the  army  of  aliens  whom  we  would 
subdue  to  Christ  ?  My  brethren,  the  subject  is  one  of  in- 
calculable greatness.  Unless  the  means  of  grace  can  be 
made  in  some  degree  to  keep  pace  with  the  growth  of 


THE   HOLY    FLOCK.  29 

our  population,  our  rising  States  must  be  abandoned  to 
error,  infidelity,  and  disorder ;  and  that  great  "West,  which 
is  ere  long  to  turn  upon  us  with  an  infiuence  far  beyond 
that  which  we  now  exert  on  them,  must,  without  the 
gospel,  send  back  on  us  the  shocks  of  a  practical 
atheism. 

ISTow  we  have  no  means  which,  in  the  way  we  com- 
monly apply  them,  can  reach  this  case ;  and  nothing 
can  throw  one  ray  of  hope  upon  this  scene,  until  the 
Spirit  be  poured  out  upon  us  from  on  high.  If,  instead 
of  tens  or  twenties  added  to  our  church  in  a  year,  God 
should  turn  us  and  cause  his  face  to  shine,  and  increase 
us  with  men  like  a  flock,  giving  us  hundreds  on  hun- 
dreds, as  he  can  easily  do,  we  shall  have  ministers 
enough,  and  holy  men  enough,  to  carry  on  the  warfare 
to  conquest. 

There  are  some  great  facilities  for  the  rapid  commu- 
nication of  religious  influence  and  sympathies,  which 
were  unknown  to  our  fathers.  The  commerce  of  mind 
with  mind  throughout  the  whole  tract  of  our  country  is 
striking.  Tlie  telegraphic  rapidity  of  intelligence  and 
feeling  is  electric,  and  characterizes  the  age.  JS^ow  the 
mechanism  is  ready — the  communication  is  instituted — 
the  train  of  conductors  is  laid ;  and  oh !  my  brethren, 
shall  not  God  be  inquired  of  by  us  to  give  the  divine, 
omnipotent  touch  ?  Shall  we  not  beseech  him  to  stir 
up  his  strength  and  come  and  save  us  ?  Shall  we  not 
fall  before  him  and  entreat  that  he  would  forgive  our 
land,  and  signalize  our  age  by  unexampled  influences 
of  reviving  grace  ? 

He  has  done  wonders — what  do  I  say !  From  the 
Pacific  islands,  within  our  own  memory  brooded  over 
by  a  night  of  horrid  superstition,  we  once  heard  sounds 
scarcely  ever  heard  before  since  apostolic  days ;  and 
God  has  chosen  American  evangelists  to  be  the  messen- 


30  THE   NEW    YORK    TULPIT. 

gers  of  peace  to  these  Sandwich  Isles.  I  own  I  am 
struck  with  amazement  and  awe,  wdien  I  read  in  the 
letters  of  men  who  went  out  from  ourselves,  that  seven 
thousand,  within  one  year,  professed  faith  in  Christ. 
Wlien  I  behold,  in  imagination,  stated  assemblies  of  two, 
three,  and  four  thousand,  each  from  those  who  had  been 
the  vilest  idolaters,  I  can  only  say.  Who  hath  heard  such  a 
thing  ?  Who  hath  seen  such  things  ?  Shall  the  earth  be 
made  to  bring  forth  in  one  day  ?  or  shall  a  nation  be 
born  at  once?  Wliat  encouragement  need  we  ask  for 
our  prayers?  Let  us  not  be  faithless  but  believing. 
The  same  Lord  over  all  is  rich  unto  all  that  call  upon 
him.  Let  us  not  imitate  the  folly  of  the  Syrians  who 
said,  "  The  Lord  is  God  of  the  hills,  but  he  is  not  God 
of  the  valleys."  He  is  not  the  God  of  the  distant  islands 
merely,  but  is  ready  to  hear  our  prayer,  and  able  to 
accomplish  for  us  such  an  increase  as  the  world  has  not 
yet  seen. 

We  seem  strangely  bent  upon  measuring  all  God's 
future  achievements  by  those  which  are  past,  and  Kmit- 
ing  what  he  can  do  to  what  he  hath  done,  although  the 
whole  of  prophecy  is  vocal  wdth  the  song  of  wonders  yet  in 
reserve.  Prophecy  must  needs  be  fulfilled,  though  hea- 
ven and  earth  pass  away :  but  prophecy  cannot  be  fulfilled 
without  a  wide-spread  conquest  of  the  earth,  and  a  rapid 
conversion  of  mankind,  such  as  we  have  not  seen. 

Lnagine  a  shower  of  grace  in  this  single  church — 
every  house  filled  with  worshippers — every  place  of 
business  made  solemn  or  joyful  by  the  presence  of  reli- 
gious emotion.  Tliink  of  a  season  during  which  religion 
should  be  the  great  matter  of  interest  with  ever}^  yonng 
person.  Tliink  of  the  efiect  on  ministers — on  professing 
Christians — on  sinners.  Imagine,  if  you  can,  my  bre- 
thren, a  universal  shower  over  the  whole  country !  God 
is  able  to  give  more  than  we  are  able  to  ask.     His  power 


THE   HOLY    FLOCK.  31 

need  not  stop  at  millions.  He  will  be  inquired  of.  He 
will  be  prayed  unto. 

The  body  of  my  remarks  has  been  spent  in  showing 
the  desirableness  of  snch  an  extension  of  the  church.  It 
is  less  necessary  to  expatiate  upon  tlie  means  of  gain- 
ing this  transcendent  blessing,  as  there  is  only  one 
named  in  the  text,  prayer;  that  one  will  never  be 
employed  while  we  undervalue  the  blessing,  and  never 
neglected  if  we  value  it.  But  it  may  not  be  unnecessary 
to  drop  a  caution  for  a  certain  class  of  minds  which 
shrinks  from  this  absolute  resort  to  God,  and  considers 
prayer  as  a  mere  appendage  and  auxiliary  to  human 
exertion.  Let  us  observe  that  it  is  God  who  will 
increase  Israel.  And  He  will  be  inquired  of  to  do  it  for 
them.     The  appropriateness  of  this  statement  is  obvious. 

All  prayer  is  an  acknowledgment  of  dependence.  It  is 
the  resort  of  weakness  to  Omnipotence.  As  such  it  gives 
glory  to  the  Divine  agency,  from  which  corrupt,  proud 
human  nature  is  always  prone  to  derogate  somewhat, 
especially  in  the  work  of  saving  souls.  But  by  grace 
are  we  saved,  and  God  will  have  the  excellency  of  the 
power  to  be — yea,  to  appear  to  be — of  Himself.  All 
our  difficulties  in  believing  in  the  possibility  of  an  unex- 
ampled increase  of  the  church  arise  from  our  looking  at 
human  agency  instead  of  divine  efficiency.  Perhaps 
one  reason  why  God  has  so  often  arrested  His  bountiful 
hand,  and  left  us  to  barrenness,  is,  that  we  have  arro- 
gated to  ourselves  much  of  the  power.  We  have  sub- 
stituted man's  work.  We  have  taken  regeneration  out 
of  God's  hands  into  our  own.  We  have  made  us  new 
hearts,  after  the  image  of  ourselves.  We  have  in  the 
place  of  the  new  creature  substituted  a  mere  purpose,  a 
volition  to  serve  God,  to  choose  him  to  make  us  happy — 
a  purpose  which  may  be,  and  often  has  been,  altered  the 
next  hour.     And  we  have  thus  exchanged  the  glory  o^ 


32  THE   NEW    YOKK    PULPIT. 

God  for  our  own  glory,  and  left  tlie  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
and  his  merciful  atonement  entirely  out  of  our  sys- 
tem. 

My  brethren,  what  visions  arise  before  the  eye  of 
faith  in  the  expectation  of  such  a  return  to  us!  On 
omnipotence  we  cannot  count  too  much.  God  is  able  to 
do  for  us  exceeding  abundantly  above  all  that  we  ask 
or  think.  Such  a  dawn  of  glory  as  this  upon  our 
churches  would  extend  its  beams  to  our  remotest  Mis- 
sions. Religion  would  be  to  our  national  Union  a  cement 
worth  more  than  all  political  ties  and  compromises. 
The  young  men  of  our  age  would  grow  up  under  new 
influences,  a  generation  fitted  for  a  new  work,  in  a 
better  age.  It  is  no  more  than  is  predicted.  "  I  will 
pour  water  upon  him  that  is  thirsty,  and  floods  upon  the 
dry  ground  :  I  will  pour  my  Spirit  upon  thy  seed,  and 
my  blessing  upon  thine  ofi*spring.  And  they  shall 
spring  up  as  among  the  grass,  as  willows  by  the  water- 
courses. One  shall  say,  I  am  the  Lord's ;  and  another 
shall  call  himself  by  the  name  of  Jacob,  and  another 
shall  subscribe  with  his  hand  unto  the  Lord,  and 
surname  himself  by  the  name  of  Israel."  Our  youth 
would  be  the  happiest  youth,  and  we  the  happiest 
people  in  the  world.  Oh  that  I  could  impress,  and 
be  possessed  myself,  with  a  due  sense  of  the  loveli- 
ness, the  glory,  the  indispensableness  of  such  a  gift. 
If  I  judge  aright,  all  other  pursuits  are  nothing  to 
the  pursuit  of  this.  Our  common  and  popular  me- 
thods of  doing  good  to  men,  aim  only  at  temporal 
good,  or  if  higher,  only  indirectly;  but  this  is  aiming 
at  the  good  of  the  soul,  and  for  eternity.  Here  is 
the  great  w^ork  of  philanthropy — ^the  only  work  worth 
living  for. 

Dear  brethren,  you  do  not  need  so  much  to  have  this 
demonstrated   as  to  have  it  pondered.     You   are  not 


THK    HOLY    FLOCK.  33 

infidels.  You  believe  in  the  soul — in  its  immortality — 
its  precioiisness — its  peril ;  you  believe  that  most  around 
you  are  nnsanctified — are  perishing ;  you  believe  that 
they  must  be  renewed,  or  lost — and  that  the  time  is 
short;  you  believe  that  they  cannot  save  themselves, 
that  they  will  not  come  to  the  Saviour ;  you  believe 
that  God  alone  can  save  them — that  he  can  do  it 
speedily — that  he  can  do  it  now — that  he  will  be 
inquired  of  to  do  it  for  you. 

Tlien  what  room  is  there  for  further  argument? 
Your  minds  concede  all  that  can  be  demanded.  It  only 
remains  that  you  j^ray.  God  hath  promised,  and  will 
perform — these  solemn  feasts  shall  be  crowded — He  will 
increase  them  with  men  like  a  flock,  as  when  ten  thou- 
sand went  np  to  Jerusalem  to  sacred  festivals,  filling 
every  avenue,  and  overspreading  the  holy  place,  the 
city,  and  the  surrounding  hills,  and  vales,  and  villages. 
Let  but  the  blast  of  the  silver  trumpet  be  once  heard, 
long  and  loud,  and  sweetly  penetrating,  over  mountain 
and  plain  of  our  beloved  land,  and  the  sound  of  jubilee 
shall  reverberate  from  distant  shores,  and  the  "  ran- 
somed of  the  Lord  shall  return,  and  come  to  Zion  with 
songs  and  everlasting  joy  upon  their  heads." 

As  the  conversion  of  a  multitude,  even  "flocks  of 
men,"  sets  forth  the  glory  of  God,  so  this  is  more  spe- 
cially and  eminently  done,  when  the  blessing  comes  in 
answer  to  prayer.  Xever  have  the  honors  of  our  com- 
mon Christianity  been  so  illustrious  as  when  with  one 
consent  the  people  of  God  have  been  seen  thronging  to 
the  place  of  prayer,  as  if  in  public  acknowledgment 
that  the  excellency  of  the  power  is  "  of  God  and  not  of 
us."  The  church  has  long  marked  in  her  calendar  the 
connection  of  Prayer  and  Pentecost.  And  amidst  many 
sins  and  deficiencies  in  our  actual  condition  in  ITew 
York,  it  is  cause  of  adoring  thankfulness  that  so  many 


34  THE    NEW    YORK    PULriT. 

thousands  liave  been  drawn  to  put  honor  upon  united 
and  public  supplications. 

The  friend  who  has  already  helped  us  largely  is  the 
friend  who  expects  our  coniidence  and  our  requests. 
Our  divine  Benefactor,  who  hath  all  fullness,  claims 
that  j)ast  gifts  be  remembered,  and  calls  on  us  to 
rehearse  "  the  years  of  the  right-hand  of  the  Most  High." 
Are  we  afraid  that  he  cannot  or  will  not*  do  so  great 
things  ?  The  admonition  is  tender  and  appropriate : 
"  Thou  calledst  in  trouble,  and  I  delivered  thee ;"  and 
immediately  afterwards :  "I  am  the  Lord  thy  God,  wdiicli 
brought  thee  out  of  the  land  of  Egypt ;  open  thy  mouth 
wide,  and  I  will  fill  it."  Psalm  Ixxxi.  7-10.  In  that 
awful  interview  with  the  patriarch,  which  almost  saved 
the  cities  of  the  plain,  Abraham  successively  received 
every  favor  that  he  asked.  But  "  the  Lord  went  his 
way,  as  soon  as  he  had  left  communing  with  Abraham," 
and  Sodom  was  given  over  to  vengeance.  Let  us  remem- 
ber that  we  pray  for  nothing  less  than  Christ's  great 
glory,  and  that  it  is  possible  to  ask  too  little.  Learn 
this  from  the  visit  of  lOng  Joash  to  the  dying  prophet. 
Though  he  was  in  earnest,  though  he  wept  over  Elisha, 
though  he  deprecated  the  invasion  by  Syria,  though  he 
smote  with  the  arrow,  which  was  symbolically  the  ''  arrow 
of  the  Lord's  deliverance,"  yet  he  stopped  short  of  the 
desires  and  hopes  which  he  ought  to  have  entertained. 
"  Take  the  arrows,"  said  Elisha.  "  And  he  took  them. 
And  he  said  unto  tlie  lung  of  Israel,  Smite  upon  the 
ground.  And  he  smote  thrice,  and  stayed.  And  the 
man  of  God  was  wroth  with  him,  and  said,  Tliou 
shouldest  have  smitten  five  or  six  times;  tlien  liadst 
thou  smitten  Syria  till  thou  hadst  consumed  it ;  whereas 
now  thou  shalt  smite  Syria  but  thrice."  We  have 
prayed,  and  have  received;  ])ut,  oh,  my. fellow- worship- 
]icrp,  liave  we  ])rayed  or  received  in  any  measure  cor- 


THE    HOLY    FLOCK.  35 

respoiidiHg  to  the  exceeding  great  and  precious  promises 
of  Iliiii  with  whom  we  have  to  do  ?  the  merits  and  suf- 
ferings of  Him  whose  death  and  righteousness  are  our 
plea  ?  or  the  boundless  compassion  of  Him  who  giveth 
to  all  men  liberally  and  upbraideth  not  ?  We  are  not 
straitened  in  God;  but  we  are  straitened  in  our  de- 
sires, our  purposes,  our  believings.  Here  all  is  narrow; 
there — in  the  heart  of  God — all  is  wide.  We  have  not, 
because  we  ask  not.  If  the  waste  cities  are  to  "  be  filled 
with  flocks  of  men,"  God  will  anticipate  this  fullness  of 
gift  bj  an  eftusion  of  the  Spirit,  causing  warm  wishes 
and  fervent  prayers.  "  I  will  yet  for  this  be  inquired 
of  by  the  house  of  Israel,  to  do  it  for  them  ;  I  will  in- 
crease them  with  men  like  a  flock."  When  united' 
prayer  begins,  revival  is  not  merely  coming — it  has 
come.  And  this  agrees  with  the  word  of  the  Lord: 
"  And  it  shall  come  to  pass,  before  they  call  I  will  an- 
swer ;  and  while  they  are  yet  speaking,  I  will  hear." 
In  sovereignty  of  dispensation  the  Most  High  prepares 
his  own  sheep,  causes  them  to  hear  the  shepherd's  voice 
and  brings  them  into  his  fold.  When  the  spirit  of 
prayer  is  universal,  the  divine  gift  will  transcend  all 
previous  example. 

Inquiring  for  God,  in  the  way  of  renewed  praj^er, 
marks  growth  in  the  individual  Christian.  The  solitary 
chamber  and  the  night  watches  attest  the  increase  of 
zeal  and  importunity.  Parents,  guardians,  husbands, 
wives,  teachers,  friends,  lie  prostrate  before  God,  yearn- 
ing for  the  conversion  of  sinners.  Above  all,  ministers  of 
the  Word  and  elders  of  the  churches  are  made  to  recognize 
their  solemn  relation  to  the  work,  and  give  themselves 
to  prayer.  Of  this  we  have  a  remarkable  instance  in 
the  case  of  Shots,  already  mentioned.  "  Li  that  place," 
says  Mr.  Livingston,  "  I  used  to  find  more  liberty  in 
preaching  than  elsewhere  ;  yea,  the  only  day  in  all  my 


36  THE    NEW    YORK    PCLPIT. 

life  wlierein  I  foimcl  most  of  tlie  presence  of  God  in 
preaching,  was  on  a  Monday,  after  the  commnnion, 
preaching  in  the  church-yard  of  Shots,  Jnne  21,  1G30. 
Tlie  night  before  I  had  been  with  some  Christians, 
who  s^ent  the  night  in  prayer  cmd  conference.  When 
I  was  alone  in  the  fields,  about  eight  or  nine  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  before  we  were  to  go  to  sermon, 
there  came  such  a  misgiving  spirit  upon  me,  consid- 
ering my  unworthiness  and  weakness,  and  the  ex- 
pectation of  the  people,  that  I  was  consulting  with 
myself,  to  have  stolen  away  somewhere,  and  declined 
that  day's  preaching,  but  that  I  thought  I  durst  not 
so  far  distrust  God,  and  so  went  to  sermon,  and  got 
good  assistance  about  an  hour  and  a  half;  w^hen  the 
points  which  I  had  meditated  on,  Ezek.  xxxvi.  25,  26. 
And,  in  the  end,  offering  to  close  with  some  words  of 
exhortation,  I  was  led  on  about  an  hour's  time,  in  a 
strain  of  exhortation  and  warning,  with  such  liberty 
and  melting  of  heart,  as  I  never  had  the  like  in  public 
in  all  my  lifetime."  Nor  should  we  fail  to  notice  the 
modesty  of  the  man,  who,  in  this  piece  of  autobiogra- 
phy, drops  no  syllable  concerning  the  conversion  of  a 
single  soul  by  his  means.  Yet  we  learn  from  the  best 
authority  that  no  less  than  five  hundred  persons  were, 
as  was  believed,  converted  under  that  sermon,  in  that 
rural  churchyard.*  Ministers  of  the  gospel,  beyond 
all  others,  have  a  serious  responsibility  at  such  times, 

*  The  excellent  John  Brown,  of  Haddington,  thus  writes:  "Mean- 
while, faithful  ministers  were  remarkably  countenanced  of  God  at  their 
sacramental  and  other  occasions.  Multitudes  crowded  to  their  commu- 
nions, and  being  eager  to  hear  as  much  of  the  gospel  as  they  could, 
when  they  had  an  opportunity  of  it,  they  began  to  hear  one  sermon 
upon  Saturday  before,  and  another  on  the  Monday  after.  Mr.  John  Liv- 
ingston, a  probationer,  after  having  run  so  far  off  that  morning,  preached 
a  sermon  at  the  kirk  of  Shots,  on  Monday,  June  21,  at  which  five  hun- 
dred were  converted  to  Christ." — History  of  Church  of  Scotland^  p.  98. 


THE   HOLY    FLOCK.  37 

and  have  cause  to  ask  the  intercession  of  God's  people, 
that  thej  may,  with  more  devotion  of  the  whole  man, 
give  themselves  to  the  word  of  God  and  prayer.  But 
the  plain  and  incumbent  means,  and  that  on  which  the 
great  blessing  thus  depends,  is  direct  prayer  to  Al- 
mighty God  for  the  particular  gift  of  large  increase. 
What  the  Master  has  already  done  is  an  earnest,  not  a 
measure,  of  what  he  will  do.  Have  many  hundreds 
been  brought  to  Christ  amidst  the  solemnities  of  deco- 
rous assemblies  ?  We  ask  more  than  this  at  the  hands 
of  our  covenant-keeping  God,  and  of  that  Saviour  who 
had  compassion  on  the  multitudes.  We  ask  that  the 
river  of  grace,  which  now  trickles  along  our  highways, 
may  swell  to  an  inundation,  breaking  with  peaceful 
force  into  dens  and  hovels,  the  dark  places  of  the  earth, 
full  of  the  habitations  of  cruelty;  that  salvation  may 
run  down  our  streets ;  "  waters  to  swim  in,  a  river  that 
could  not  be  passed  over ;"  that  the  tidings  of  his  love, 
and  the  baptism  of  his  Spirit,  may  reach,  not  merely 
the  church-going  and  instructed  child  of  the  covenant, 
but  the  open  sinner,  the  publican,  and  the  harlot.  "  O 
God,  how  long  shall  the  adversary  reproach  ?  Shall  the 
enemy  blaspheme  thy  name  forever  ?  Why  withdraw- 
est  thou  thy  hand,  even  thy  right  hand  ?  Pluck  it  out 
of  thy  bosom  !"     Amen. 


II. 

EELIGIOUS  CONYEESATIOK 

BY  REV.  RUFUS  W.  CLARK, 
Minister  of  the  South  Congregational  Church,  Brooklyn,  N.  T. 

Tlien  they  that  feared  the  Lord  spake  often  one  to  another,  and  the 
Lord  hearkened  and  heard  it :  and  a  book  of  remembrance  was  written 
before  him,  for  them  that  feared  the  Lord,  and  that  thought  upon  his 
name. — Malachi  iii.  16. 

On  entering  a  senate  cliamber,  there  is  sometliing 
peculiarly  impressive  in  tlie  spectacle  of  a  body  of  men, 
whose  words  are  all  recorded  by  others,  and  sent  fortli 
to  be  communicated  to  millions,  in  every  part  of  the 
land.  Tlioughts  that  have  sprung  from  the  fine  net- 
work of  the  brain,  and  sent  forth  into  the  air  by  the 
power  of  speech,  are  caught  by  others,  and  reproduced 
upon  the  network  of  telegraphic  wires,  that  carry  them 
with  lightning  speed  to  the  consciousness  of  an  entire 
nation.  Only  words,  or  vibrations,  float  in  the  air,  and 
yet  they  create  laws,  bear  upon  institutions,  produce 
peace  or  agitation,  contribute  greatly  to  a  destiny. 

If  the  language  of  our  text  is  true,  the  whole  earth  is 
a  senate  chamber.  The  galleries  of  the  invisible  world 
are  lined  with  reporters.  Books  of  remembrance  are 
written,  are  stereotyped,  perhaps  better,  electrotyped. 
Among  the  listeners,  there  is  one  august  auditor,  who 
hearkens  and  hears,  particularly,  every  word  that  is 
spoken  of  himself,  his  character,  attributes,  government 
and  deeds.  In  this  senate,  grave  questions  are  discussed 
and  settled.    The  fate  of  more  than  institutions  is  decided. 

88 


RELIGIOUS    CON  VERS  ATIOX.  39 

The   interests  here,  though  shaped  only  by  a  breath, 
take  hold  on  eternity. 

It  is  the  province  of  the  human  mind  to  inspect  the 
habits,  structure,  anatomy  of  the  races  below  us ;  to 
examine  the  principles  and  growth  of  plants ;  to  survey, 
indeed,  the  whole  animal  and  vegetable  kingdoms.  It 
may  be  true,  that  besides  the  Omniscient  Being,  the 
order  of  intelligence  next  above  the  human  family  may 
study  us,  may  not  only  hear  our  words  and  witness  our 
deeds,  but  explore  the  moral  anatomy  of  each  subject, 
and  report  upon  the  progress  of  every  candidate  for  the 
honors  of  heaven.  K,  as  the  Apostle  intimates,  the 
angels  are  ministering  spirits  sent  forth  to  minister  to 
the  heirs  of  salvation,  is  it  not  reasonable  to  suppose 
that  they  are  acquainted  with  the  objects  of  their  benevo- 
lent efforts,  and  know  their  wants  and  circumstances  ? 
If  the  angels  encamp  round  about  those  w^ho  fear  God, 
may  they  not  take  part  in  their  conflicts,  aid  them  in 
their  struggles,  and  participate  in  their  victories. 

From  the  hints  given  in  the  Scriptures,  we  infer  that 
our  words  are  listened  to  by  a  vast  invisible  audience, 
that  we  aet'  upon  the  stage  of  life  under  the  direct 
inspection  of  a  great  cloud  of  witnesses,  and  that  there 
are  means  of  communication  between  us  and  the  ranks 
of  intelligences  above,  more  complete  and  extensive 
than  any  systems  that  have  been  established  between  the 
nations  of  the  earth.  We  are  all  preachers,  and  address 
auditors  so  numerous  that  they  cannot  be  numbered. 
We  are  all  writers  of  books,  living  epistles  that  will  be 
read  by  million^  long  after  we  have  passed  from  the 
stage  of  life.  Each  person  writes  his  autobiography, 
and  a  copy  of  each  Christian  is  deposited  in  the  libraries 
of  Heaven.  I^o  man  liveth  to  himself,  and  no  man 
dieth  to  himself.  Living  or  dying,  he  is  the  centre  of 
influences,  the  waves  of  which  will  continue  to  roll  until 


40  THE    NEW   YORK    PULPIT. 

thoy  reach  tlic  uttermost  boundary  of  social  existence. 
Every  word  uttered,  as  well  as  deed  performed,  is  a 
living  force  that  moves  men,  touches  the  skies,  and 
accelerates  or  retards  the  working  machinery  of  the 
moral  universe. 

In  considering  the  theme  brought  before  us  in  our 
text,  we  would  sjpeak  of  the  power  of  religious  convcrsa^ 
tion^  and  its  influence  in  the  family^  the  churchy  and 
over  imjyenitent  men. 

"  Then  they  that  feared  the  Lord  spake  often  one  to 
another."  Men  will  usually  converse  upon  that  which 
is  most  prominent  in  their  thoughts.  The  intense 
worldly  merchant  will  talk  of  trade,  merchandise  and 
stocks.  The  artist  will  discuss  statuary  and  paintings. 
The  scholar  will  converse  upon  books  and  authors. 
The  philosopher  will  argue  upon  the  merits  of  different 
principles  of  science  or  theories  of  j)hilosophy.  The 
devotee  of  fashion  will  grow  eloquent  over  the  last 
change  in  dress,  the  taste  of  a  neighbor,  or  some  frivo- 
lous point  of  etiquette.  The  Christian  will  converse 
upon  his  hopes,  his  God,  his  heaven.  lie  will  delight 
to  speak  of  his  spiritual  treasures,  of  what  i^ion  has 
wrought  in  his  heart,  of  sweet  religious  experiences, 
of  prospects  that  fill  his  moral  horizon  with  briglitness, 
and  flood  his  soul  with  joy.  The  young  convert  in  the 
freshness  of  his  newly  acquired  possessions,  in  the  inten- 
sity of  his  first  love,  desires  that  all  should  know  of  his 
joys,  and  share  in  his  happiness.  He  wishes  them  to  see 
how  completely  old  things  have  passed  away,  and  all 
things  become  new.  He  invites  them  into  his  j)alace, 
which  he  has  received  in  exchange  for  a  gloomy  dun- 
geon. He  takes  them  through  its  spacious  and  beautiful 
halls,  shows  them  his  rich  jewels,  costly  gems  and  pearls, 
points  them  to  the  illuminated  pictures  of  celestial 
scenery  on  the  walls,  and  from  the  upper  windows  directs 


RELIGIOUS    CONVEKSATION.  41 

their  attention  to  liis  Father's  kingdom,  extending  far 
as  the  eye  can  reach,  with  its  distant  mountains  of  salva- 
tion, its  temples  of  light,  its  placid  lakes,  silver  streams, 
its  nnfading  verdure  and  immortal  bloom.  He  wishes 
that  everybody  had  snch  a  palace  and  such  an  inherit- 
ance. 

Some  persons  talk  but  little  about  their  religion,';, 
because  they  have  but  little  to  talk  about.  Their  time,  I 
energies,  and  attention  are  so  absorbed  by  other  sub- 
jects, that  although  they  have  professed  their  faith,  they 
scarcely  knew  where  to  find  it.  It  may  be  hid  away  in 
some  corner  of  the  mind,  or  it  may  be  wrapped  up  in 
some  formula  or  orthodox  napkin.  K  it  is  a  light  in 
existence,  it  is  probably  under  some  bushel.  Might  it 
not  be  well,  in  such  cases,  to  have  the  religion  removed 
from  under  the  rubbish  and  darkness  of  the  distant 
chambers  of  the  mind,  nearer  to  the  tongue,  so  that  some 
hope  might  occasionally  have  the  benefit  of  expression, 
and  some  principle  get  strength  by  exercise.  Perhaps 
your  religion  has  been  so  long  an  invalid  that  it  cannot 
bear  to  be  brought  to  the  air  and  light.  It  may  be 
necessary,  you  think,  that  the  nurses  should  walk  very 
softly,  and  scarcely  speak  above  a  whisper.  Perhaps 
your  religion  has  an  intermittent  fever,  some  days  worse, 
some  days  better,  but  oftener  worse  than  better.  ]^ow, 
if  your  soul,  that  the  Almighty  would  fit  up  as  a  palace^ 
or  occupy  as  a  temple,  is  nothing  but  a  hospital,  in 
which  you  are  striving  to  nurse  up  some  poor  skeleton 
of  a  hope  that  the  breath  of  a  word  or  two  would  blow 
away,  then  I  pity  you. 

Some,  indeed,  in  reply  to  inquiries,  may  speak  of  their 
religion  ;  but  the  tones  of  voice,  manner  and  expression 
of  countenance,  are,  as  though  the  person  was  speaking 
of  a  dear  friend  who  was  just  gone  in  the  last  stages  of 
consumption.     Were  I   called  in  for  advice   I  would 


42  THE   NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

recommend  an  application  for  the  balm  in  Gilead,  and 
for  tlie  great  pliysician  who  is  there.  Let  this  fever  of 
worldliness  abate,  and  the  consuming  influence  of  care 
be  removed,  and  the  patient  be  revived  by  the  cordials 
presented  by  a  Saviour's  hand,  and  be  strengthened 
with  spiritual  food ;  and  religious  thoughts,  clothed  in 
the  robes  of  living  words,  will  go  forth  to  edify  and 
bless  society.  Your  religion  will  have  power.  It  will 
receive  the  gift  of  tongues.  It  will  grow  eloquent  for 
truth,  for  God,  for  Heaven. 

The  power  of  conversation  all  must  readily  admit. 
The  extent  to  which  it  is  a  source  of  hapjDiness,  or 
misery;  the  various  joys  and  sorrows  that  are  incar- 
nated in  words  and  sent  on  their  mission,  can  scarcely 
be  described.  We  all  know  that  conversation  is  the  basis 
of  the  social  element,  the  nourisher  of  friendship,  the 
weaver  of  the  ties  that  bind  together  kindred  hearts,  the 
instrument  of  usefulness,  and  a  prominent  source  of 
domestic  enjoyment.  It  is  the  medium  of  communica- 
tion between  intelligent  beings,  to  a  great  extent  the 
avenue  of  the  affections,  and  a  means  of  intellectual 
stimulus.  %l^ 

In  the  family,  it  is  the  harp  which  needs  always  to  be 
kept  in  tune  in  order  to  secure  domestic  happiness.  If 
the  strings  are  broken,  or  a  wrong  chord  is  touched,  the 
jar  is  felt  upon  many  sensibilities.  Often  in  the 
morning  the  key  note  is  struck  which  gives  a  charactei 
to  the  whole  day.  A  single  word  may  decide  the  state 
of  the  domestic  atmosphere — show  wdiether  there  are  to 
be  heavy  clouds  or  a  bright  sunshine  during  the  day, 
whether  the  air  w^ill  be  balmy  or  chilly.  In  some  fami- 
lies the  words  seem  to  fall  as  the  dew^,  or  as  gentle 
showers  that  refresh  and  beautify  the  plants  that  adorn 
tlie  domestic  circle.  In  others  they  come  more  like 
"  hailstones,"    to  say  nothing  of  ''  coals  of  fire,"  and 


RELIGIOUS    CONVERSATION.  43 

damage  the  tender  flowers.  Sometimes  a  single  member 
of  a  family  may  serve  the  purpose  of  a  liglitning  rod, 
and  convey  harmless  to  the  earth  the  electricity  from 
the  impending  storm. 

There  is  no  field  where  the  power  of  religious  conver- 
sation is  so  intensely  felt,  and  where  the  results  are  so 
momentous,  as  in  the  family.  This  is  the  institution  for 
culture,  for  development.  The  family  is  the  school  of 
the  race,  the  university  of  nations.  Here  the  forces  of 
society  are  cast.  Here  institutions,  social,  civil,  and 
religious,  are  moulded.  This  is  the  grand  fountain 
whence  flow  mighty  streams  that  bless  or  curse  society. 
Here  words  are  the  seeds  of  principle,  the  directors  of  a 
life,  the  arbiters  of  a  destiny.  They  nourish  or  crush 
the  aftections.  They  excite  or  stifle  holy  ambition. 
Many  of  the  great  lights  in  the  church — ^reformers,  meta- 
physicians, divines — trace  their  power,  under  God,  to  this 
source.  Here  a  Doddridge,  Edwards,  Martyn,  Payson, 
and  a  host  of  others,  first  had  their  afiections  directed  to 
the  Saviour,  first  felt  the  power  of  virtue  and  the  ne- 
cessity of  high  moral  principle.  The  graduates  from 
this  university  at  this  hour  occupy  the  seats  of  moral 
authority  throughout  Christendom.  Tliey  are  the  leaders 
of  the  great  philanthropic  and  Christian  enterprises  of 
the  day,  the  defenders  of  the  faith  in  state  and  church, 
the  pioneers  of  civilization,  the  glory  of  the  present  and 
the  hope  of  the  future. 

Christian  parents,  your  words  daily  uttered  in  the 
family  circle  constitute  in  a  great  measure  the  world  in 
which  your  children  live,  move,  and  have  their  being. 
Tliey  breathe  the  moral  atmos23here  which  you  create. 
They  gaze  upon  the  pictures  of  virtue  and  religion  which 
your  language  paints.  They  estimate  the  doctrines  of 
Christianity  by  your  standard.  Long  after  you  have 
passed  from  the  stage  of  action  your  words  will  live, 


44:  THE    NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

will  increase  in  vitality  and  power.  They  will  be  trans- 
mitted as  an  inlieritance,  exert  an  influence  through 
successive  generations,  and  be  felt  in  distant  ages  in  two 
worlds,  perhaps  in  three. 

In  the  next  'plaee,  Religious  Conversation  is  a  means 
of  spiritual  growth  in  the  church.  Its  reflex  power  is 
among  its  marked  forces.  Just  to  exj)ress  a  principle  is 
to  strengthen  it  in  the  mind  of  the  speaker.  The  very 
effort  to  defend  a  right  position  renders  it  more  impreg- 
nable. When  arguing  upon  any  question,  how  often  the 
mere  excitement  of  discussion  will  start  up  fresh  argu- 
ments, and  new  proofs  in  the  mind.  It  seems  sometimes  as 
if  an  armed  host  of  spiritual  warriors,  that  had  encamped 
round  about  us,  had  rushed  to  our  aid,  and  placed  in  our 
hands  new  weapons  of  defence.  The  Christian  gains 
in  spiritual  strength  in  the  very  efforts  to  convince  or 
strengthen  others.  He  grows  by  imparting.  His  reli- 
gious world  enlarges  by  the  attempt  to  communicate  it 
to  another.  While  describing  the  beauties  of  religion, 
they  become  clothed  with  new  beauties.  While  setting 
forth  the  attractions  of  the  doctrijies  of  the  gospel,  they 
put  on  their  splendid  robes,  and  rich  ornaments,  and 
dazzling  crowns.  They  come  forth  upon  the  stage  of 
the  speaker's  imagination  with  a  grace,  beauty,  and 
power  that  they  never  before  possessed.  Let  the  Chris- 
tian talk  about  his  Saviour,  describe  his  virtues,  tell  of 
his  love,  and  that  Saviour,  every  instant,  becomes  more 
precious  to  the  speaker.  His  love  opens  as  a  broad  ocean 
before  the  mind,  fathomless,  shoreless ;  wave  after  wave 
rolls  over  the  spirit,  and  the  Christian  can  only  cry,  in- 
finite !  infinite  !  Let  one  converse  of  his  heaven,  of  his 
future  home,  and  on  every  side  doors  will  fly  open,  and 
new  departments  in  the  realms  of  glory  will  be  revealed. 
While  speaking  of  a  fountain  of  pleasure,  a  thousand  will 
burst  up  all  around  him.    While  describing  the  JS'ew 


RELIGIOUS   CONVERSATION.  45 

Jerusalem,  floating  down  from  heaven,  tlie  whole 
horizon  will  be  lined  with  images  of  celestial  cities. 
While  discoursing  of  the  attributes  of  God,  those  attri- 
butes will  open  to  the  speaker's  mind  with  a  force,  sub- 
limity and  majesty,  never  before  conceived.  Strive  to 
express  the  power  of  God,  and  your  thoughts  will  grow 
with  the  effort.  Give  examples  of  his  wisdom,  and  often 
the  evidences  will  multiply  upon  you  faster  than  you 
can  express  them.  Put  into  language  your  idea  of  God's 
eternity,  and  the  harder  you  labor  to  fully  express  it,  the 
more  rapidly  will  the  conceptions  outrun  your  words. 

I  appeal  to  experience.  Does  not  the  Sabbath  School 
teacher  feel  the  reflex  influence  of  his  own  teachings  ? 
Are  not  the  doctrines  of  Christianity  clearer  to  his  mind 
from  the  very  effort  to  express  them  ?  Had  I  my  wish, 
every  adult  member  of  a  church  and  society  would  be  in 
the  Sabbath  School,  either  as  a  teacher,  or  a  member  of 
a  mutual  class,  if  for  no  other  purpose,  at  least  to  obtain 
the  benefit  of  expressing  truth. 

Does  not  the  missionary  of  the  cross  experience  the 
reflex  influence  of  his  attempts  to  impart  instruction  to 
the  heathen?  Is  he  not  edified,  built  up,  spiritually 
blessed,  by  his  noble  endeavors  to  save  others  ?  The 
preacher  of  the  gospel  often  receives  incalculable  benefit 
from  his  own  doctrines.  The  effort  to  impress  others 
inspires  his  own  soul.  His  very  duties  are  his  own 
armor  of  defence.  Sometimes  a  speaker  will  be  all 
pathos,  earnestness,  fire,  thought  kindling  thought,  faith 
creating  faith,  and  he  addressing  an  auditor  who  is  a 
block  of  ice.  The  more  the  speaker  kindles,  the  more 
the  hearer  freezes.  Perhaps  the  man  came  into  the 
sanctuary  in  a  frozen  state ;  frozen  by  pride,  or  j)rejudice, 
or  error.  Perhaps  ten  thousand  summers  could  not 
thaw  him  out.  Is  that  preaching  wasted  ?  One  man 
at  least  is  benefited  by  it. 


46  THE   NEW    YOKK   TULPIT. 

The  law  of  moral  providence  is  :  "  It  is  more  blessed 
to  give  than  to  receive,"  and  this  applies  universally. 
You  go  to  a  man  and  strive  to  do  him  good  with  Chris- 
tian words,  with  earnest  counsel  and  entreaty,  and  he 
may  turn  away  coldly  from  you,  he  may  spurn  your  in- 
structions. Are  the  words  lost  ?  You  derive  the  benefit 
from  them.  You  obtain  the  blessing  of  giving,  if  he 
does  not  of  receiving.  We  hear,  indeed,  about  casting 
pearls  before  swine,  but  they  are  pearls  still,  and  you 
can  pick  them  up  and  put  them  into  your  pocket,  if  the 
swine  do  not  want  them. 

These,  however,  are  the  exceptions  and  not  the  rule  ; 
and  this  brings  me  to  our  next  point,  namely :  TJic 
influence  of  religious  vjords  ujpon  others.  And  first, 
their  influence  upon  other  Christians.  Here  we  are  not 
ready  to  admit  the  exception  to  the  rule,  for  a  real  child 
of  God  will  always  be  benefited  by  the  religious  con- 
versation of  another.  There  is  a  principle  in  his  soul 
that  w^ill  respond  to  an  affectionate,  judicious,  earnest 
Christian  appeal;  and  this  may  be  just  what  he  needs, 
the  kind,  sympathizing  words  of  a  Christian  brother. 
He  may  be  in  despondency ;  clouds  of  afiiiction,  or 
trouble,  or  doubt,  may  be  hanging  over  him  ;  he  needs 
one  to  cheer  him,  to  lead  him  to  the  light.  Modesty 
may  keep  him  back ;  he  needs  some  one  to  press  him 
into  the  front  ranks.  He  may  be  sleeping  at  his  post ; 
he  needs  a  trumpet  blast,  close  to  his  ear,  to  wake  him. 

This  is  certainly  a  very  easy  mode  of  doing  good.  It 
requires  no  elevated  station  in  society.  It  costs  no 
money.  It  costs  no  time.  One  hour  rescued  from 
those  wasted  out  of  the  twenty-four,  and  devoted  to 
this  duty,  would  create  influences  and  forces  for  good 
that  would  live  long  after  the  pyramids  have  crumbled, 
and  the  stars  faded  from  the  heavens. 

Consider  the  themes  of  this  conversation.     Tliey  are 


RELIGIOUS   CONVERSATION.  47 

such  as  angels  delight  to  dwell  upon;  such  as  the 
noblest  and  loftiest  intelligences  in  the  universe  delight 
to  explore ;  such  as  swell  the  anthems  of  celestial 
choirs,  and  such  as  are  pleasing  to  the  infinite  Father. 
They  pertain  to  the  duties  of  this  life.  They  enter  into 
all  our  relations  to  our  fellow-men.  They  touch  human 
happiness  at  every  point.  They  relate  to  a  dying  hour — 
to  the  flight  of  the  spirit  to  far  off  regions — to  the  ages 
of  immortality.  They  pertain  to  the  moral  government 
of  God — to  the  grandeurs  of  redemption — -to  the  life, 
death,  resurrection,  and  ascension  of  Jesus — to  the  mis- 
sion of  the  Holy  Spirit — to  regeneration,  sanctification, 
and  the  preparation  of  the  soul  for  glory.  Can  any 
themes  be  more  profitable,  elevating,  and  thrilling? 
"  Visionary  !"  says  the  skeptic.  The  only  realities,  we 
reply.  Tlie  only  subjects  worthy  of  earnest  attention 
of  enthusiastic  pursuit.  Visionary !  Then  all  things 
are  visionary.  Life  is  a  phantom — government  a  mock- 
ery— ^revelation  a  fable,  the  present  all  darkness,  and 
the  future  all  hopelessness  !  Let  the  skeptic  hug,  if  he 
will,  his  fatal  delusion.  Let  him  be  silent  concerning 
the  goodness  of  God  and  the  treasures  of  a  Saviour's 
love.  Let  him  be  blind  to  the  prizes  hung  out  in  the 
skies,  and  deaf  to  the  music  that  floats  from  the  regions 
of  bliss.  The  Christian  should  speak  of  his  inheritance, 
should  delight  to  talk  of  his  journey  heavenward,  of  his 
home,  of  his  spiritual  treasures. 

Consider  the  power  of  Religious  Conversation  over  the 
impenitent.  Does  it  fall  within  the  bounds  of  possi- 
bility that  a  brief  conversation  with  another  may  decide 
the  destiny  of  his  soul  ?  Can  a  cause  so  apparently 
trivial,  so  easily  set  in  motion,  produce  consequences  so 
momentous,  consequences  infinite  ?  Will  the  plan  of 
divine  benevolence,  in  relation  to  any,  fail  of  its  end ; 
will  the  grand   scheme  of  redemption,  involving  the 


48  THE   NEW    YORK   PULPIT. 

sufferings  and  death  of  Jesus,  be  of  no  avail ;  will  tlie 
anxieties  of  Heaven,  so  long  felt  for  the  wanderer,  be 
all  lost,  simply  because  this  small  link  in  the  chain  of 
means  is  wanting  ?  Have  any  already  perished,  because 
Tve  have  failed  to  warn  them  of  danger,  and  invite  them 
to  Jesus  ?  Do  we  daily  walk  amid  such  vast  responsi- 
bilities, every  step  touching  a  point  where  ten  thousand 
telegraphic  wires  meet,  every  word  we  utter  engraved 
upon  imperishable  monuments,  every  breath  of  influ- 
ence bearing  a  soul  nearer  to  its  God,  or  swinging  it 
farther  from  the  orbit  of  hope  ! 

Such  are  the  law^s  of  Providence  that  we  cannot  fly 
from  responsibility.  "We  cannot  abdicate  our  thrones 
of  power.  We  all  hold  ofiice  under  the  government  of 
Heaven,  and  to  that  government  every  soul  is  account- 
able. 

One  may  say,  I  have  many  religious  thoughts  and 
earnest  Christian  desires,  but  do  not  care  to  e?:press 
them.  Why  should  you  keej)  them  in  a  dungeon  under 
lock  and  key  ?  Why  keep  them  buried  up  in  the  dark 
recesses  of  the  soul.  There  may  be  an  abundance  of 
gold  under  the  soil,  in  the  crevices  of  the  rocks,  and 
mingled  with  the  sand.  Of  what  service  is  it  lying 
there.  Let  it  be  brought  forth  and  cast  into  coin,  and 
w^rought  into  articles  of  utility  and  forms  of  beauty. 
Let  your  thoughts  and  desires  for  the  salvation  of  men 
be  incarnated  in  living  words,  and  move  as  forces 
in  society,  and  you  may  know  by  experience  the 
truth  of  the  promise,  ''  they  that  turn  many  to  right- 
eousness shall  shine  as  the  stars  forever  and  ever. 

Finally^  consider  the  motives  to  this  duty.  Tliere  is 
one  specified  in  the  text ;  and  if  that  is  a  reality ;  if 
you  can  confide  in  it,  have  faith  in  it,  fully  realize  it,  it  is 
enough.  It  covers  the  whole  ground.  It  is  the  con- 
densation of  all  promises,  the  source  of  all  rewards. 


RELIGIOUS    CONVERSATION.  49 

If  the  infinite  God  listens  to  every  word  that  is 
spoken  for  him — if  a  book  of  remembrance  is  written 
before  him  for  those  that  fear  the  Lord  and  think  upon 
his  name,  what  a  stimulus  is  this  for  religious  conversa- 
tion !  How  ought  it  to  stir  every  soul,  to  quicken  with 
new  life  every  heart,  to  unloose  every  tongue,  to  call 
forth  the  most  earnest,  impassioned,  and  eloquent 
words  !  What  are  all  human  audiences,  however  vast, 
intelligent,  refined,  or  powerful,  compared  with  this! 
What  are  angelic  hosts,  the  highest  created  intelli- 
gences, as  listeners,  compared  with  this ! 

Convince  me  that  my  words  in  the  pulpit  and  out  of 
the  pulpit  are  acceptable  to  God,  that  he  listens  and 
will  reward,  and  I  care  not  for  human  opinions.  What 
is  the  breath  of  censure,  or  the  criticisms  of  the  fasti- 
dious, if  Heaven  aj)proves?  Does  God  listen?  Does 
his  angel  record  ?     That  is  enough. 

Hear  the  promise  that  follows  the  text :  "  And  they 
shall  be  mine,"  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts,  "  in  that  day 
when  I  make  up  my  jewels."  They  will  not  only  be 
received  to  the  royal  courts  of  the  great  Eang,  but  will 
be  valued  and  protected  as  the  most  costly  treasures  in 
the  palace.  They  will  be  as  the  most  precious  gems  in 
the  crown  of  the  infinite  Sovereign :  their  beauty  never 
fading,  and  their  lustre  like  that  of  the  stars  shining 
forever  and  ever. 


III. 

PAST  FEELESTG. 

BY  REV.  THEO.  L.  CUTLER, 
Pastor  of  the  Reformed  Dutch  Church  in  Market  street,  N.  T. 

Past  feeling. — Eph.  iv.  19. 

A  LITTLE  boy  is  playing  by  his  motlier's  side.  Natu- 
rally he  is  not  unfeeling.  He  is  not  insensible  to  gen- 
erous sentiments.  When  a  rude  act  wounds  his  parent's 
heart,  he  is  smitten  with  genuine  compunction.  When 
he  sees  an  object  of  distress,  he  is  touched  by  it.  He 
may,  perhaps,  give  up  his  spending-money  to  relieve  a 
beggar ;  or  weep  in  sorrow  for  an  unguarded  blow  given 
to  a  schoolmate.  His  heart  has  some  flesh  in  it.  The 
little  fellow  has  tears  in  his  composition ;  he  knows  what 
it  is  to  feel. 

Years  roll  on.  His  situation  changes ;  and  he  changes 
with  it.  Watchful  parents  die,  or  else  he  is  removed  far 
from  them.  He  falls  under  evil  influences.  Wicked 
companions  gather  about  him — restraint  slowly  decays 
like  a  rotting  rope — he  breaks  loose  into  sin.  The 
calamity  befalls  him  which  befell  the  traveller  from 
Jerusalem  to  Jericho.  He  "  falls  among  thieves  "  who 
do  worse  than  rob  him  of  his  purse ;  they  rob  him  of 

Note. — My  only  reason  foi*  consenting  to  the  publication  of  this  dis- 
course is  found  in  the  simple  fact  that  God  has  beei]  pleased  to  bless  its 
plain  unadorned  truths  to  the  conversion  of  several  souls  during  the  pre- 
sent revival.  50 


PAST   FEELING.  51 

decency,  of  self-respect,  of  all  reverence  for  the  pure, 
the  honest,  the  lofty,  the  sacred,  the  holy.  He  grows 
reckless,  and  launches  his  depravity  out  on  the  open 
sea — ^literally  spreading  sail  for  perdition.  When  on 
shore  he  drinks  hard,  but  feels  no  compunction.  His 
oaths  are  exploded  with  a  gusto,  as  if  he  loved  to  blas- 
pheme. All  regard  for  man,  all  fear  of  God  wears  away 
from  his  heart.  His  soul  begins  to  petrify.  The  flesh 
turns  to  stone.     At  length  he  is  ripe  for  anything. 

In  an  evil  hour  he  plans  a  mutiny  on  board  the  ship, 
and  w^ith  his  own  hand  strikes  down  the  officer  of  the 
deck,  and  heaves  his  crimson  corpse  out  into  the  sea  as 
coolly  as  he  would  throw  over  a  dog !  Years  pass  by — 
dark,  desperate  years  of  rapine  and  of  blood.  At 
length  his  pirate-cruiser  is  captured,  and  he  is  brought 
on  shore  in  irons.  His  soul  is  in  irons  too.  They  try 
him,  they  condemn  him,  they  sentence  him.  But 
through  it  all  he  is  perfectly  unmoved.  They  drag  him 
to  his  cell.  He  spends  the  last  night  before  his  execu- 
tion in  that  living  tomb — and  sleej^s  !  He  ascends  the 
fatal  scaffold,  as  callous  as  a  rock.  No  words  of  tender 
exhortation  and  entreaty  from  the  chaplain  by  his  side 
can  melt  him  for  a  moment.  His  face  indicates  nothing 
but  the  sullen,  obstinate  hardihood  of  despair.  That 
adamantine  heart — that  heart  once  tender,  once  alive  to 
generous  feeling,  once  soft  enough  for  tears  of  contri- 
tion— that  heart  is  now  past  feeling  I  It  once  could 
feel ;  nay,  it  did  feel.  It  feels  no  longer.  Shame  crim- 
sons no  longer  that  brazen  countenance  ;  the  dread  of 
death  moves  not  a  muscle  of  that  rigid  face ;  the  hor- 
rors of  hell  call  forth  no  last  cry  for  "mercy,"  as  he 
swings  out  into  his  terrible  eternity!  He  dies  as  he 
lived  ;  and  among  the  nettles  on  his  shunned  and  soK- 
tary  grave  we  would  plant  a  stone — ^not  of  resj)ect,  but 
of  warning — and  write  on  it  God's  solemn  sentence, 
"  Past  Feeleng." 


52  l-HE   NEW   YORK    PULPIT. 

]S"ow  sncli  appalling  cases  as  this  I  have  described  are 
not  imaginary.  They  are  extreme  cases,  I  admit.  They 
are  about  as  bad  as  earth  can  furnish,  or  fiends  can 
delight  to  look  upon.  We  have  ourselves  seen  cases 
very  much  like  them.  The  gambler,  who  sits  glued  to 
his  roulette-table  till  the  morning  sun  looks  in  to  reproach 
him — the  burglar,  who  after  years  of  prison  experience 
still  plots  his  deeds  of  darkness — the  poor  outcast  child 
of  shame,  who  vents  her  vileness  on  the  evening  air  as 
she  passes  us  in  the  streets — ^the  rufiian,  who  makes  mer- 
chandise of  human  sinews  and  human  souls — all  these 
are  but  melancholy  spectacles  for  men  to  shudder  at, 
and  for  pitying  angels  to  weep  over.  They  are  the  ter- 
rific examples  of  what  human  depravity  can  work  out 
when  man  is  simply  given  up  to  liirriself.  Tliey  illus- 
trate fully  the  callousness  of  the  heart  when  it  has 
become  jpast  feeling — feeling  for  friends,  feeling  for 
reputation,  feeling  for  God's  word,  feeling  for  life  itself 
or  for  a  dread  hereafter. 

It  was,  to  such  persons — to  those  whom  with  a  sad 
significance  we  style  "abandoned"  persons — that  the 
apostle  referred  in  the  passage  before  us.  He  had  just 
been  exhorting  the  Ephesian  church  to  purity  of  heart 
and  life.  As  a  warning,  he  points  to  the  profligacy  of 
heathenism  about  them.  He  makes  a  beacon  of  the 
godless  Gentiles  who  "walked  in  the  vanity  of  their 
mind,"  whose  "understandings  were  darkened,"  who 
were  alienated  from  the  life  of  God.  Tliose  men  had 
debauched  their  own  moral  sense.  Their  consciences 
were  made  drunk.  They  had  given  themselves  over  to 
the  tyranny  of  lust  to  "  work  all  uncleanness  with  greed- 
iness." Until  at  length  they  had  become  so  insensible 
to  their  guilt,  that  Paul  brands  them  with  the  fatal  epi- 
thet, ''^jpast  feeling. ^'^ 

Now  I  do  earnestly  hope  that  this  sense  of  my  text  is 
not,  and  never  will  be,  applicable  to  any  one  in  this  as 


PAST  FEELING.  53 

semblj.  I  trust  that  on  no  brow  here  will  ever  be 
affixed  a  brand  to  which  the  guilty  wearer  shall  be  in- 
different— a  brand  seen  and  read  of  all  men,  except  the  ^ 
man  himself.  K  God  shall  lengthen  out  my  life  among 
you,  may  I  never  behold  the  harrowing  spectacle  of  any 
young  man  in  this  audience  so  sunk,  so  dead  to  all  re- 
gard for  himself,  regard  for  society,  regard  for  the  God 
of  Heaven,  that  he  shall  not  even  feel  a  glow  of  shame 
upon  his  cheek  when  he  meets  the  mother  who  bore 
him,  or  the  pastor  who  tried  to  save  him.  ]^ever,  never 
come  that  day  when  any  of  you,  my  beloved  young 
friends,  shall  have  become  so  dead  to  the  claims  of  God 
and  the  voice  of  conscience,  that  having  grown  ''  past 
feeling,"  we  must  be  constrained  to  abandon  you  as  past 
all  hope  ! 

There  is,  however,  a  sense  in  which  the  solemn  words 
of  my  text  may  apply  to  some  of  you.  I  fear  it  will  yet 
apply.  Perhaps  it  does  already.  I  refer  to  that  mseri- 
sihility  to  religious  truth  which  marks  those  who  have 
often  grieved  the  Holy  Spirit.  This  is  a  most  tremend- 
ous calamity.  It  is  all  the  worse  from  the  fact  that  its 
victim  is  insensible  to  his  own  insensibility.  He  does  not 
feel  how  fearful  it  is  not  to  feel.  There  are  many  here 
whom  I  could  startle  at  once  by  telling  them,  on  good 
medical  authority,  that  a  deadly  disease  was  beginning 
its  stealthy  work  upon  their  frames  ;  or  if  I  should  tell 
them  that  a  burglar  had  designs  upon  their  house  and 
life  to-night ;  or  that  a  treacherous  friend  would  betray 
the  secret  to-morrow  which  shall  blast  their  character. 
But  when  I  come  and  tell  you  plainly  that  you  are  in 
danger  of  being  lost  forever^  you  scarcely  oi^en  your  ears 
to  listen.  What  care  you  for  it?  "AVhat's  that  to 
me." 

My  impenitent  friend  !  it  has  not  been  always  so  with 
thee.     Open  the  leaves  of  your  heart's  diary.     Recall  ' 
your  past.     Bring  up  memory  to  the  witness-box.    She 


54  THE   NEW   YORK   PUI-PIT. 

will  remind  you  of  a  time  when  yonr  conscience  was 
tender,  and  sensitive  to  gosj^el  influence.  As  the  words 
of  warning  sounded  from  a  pastor's  lips,  on  some  past 
Sabbath,  you  listened  to  them,  and  listened  with  solemn 
awe.  Tlie  truth  fell  like  the  small  rain  on  the  tender 
herb.  You  were  melted.  You  were  subdued.  You 
were  struck  through  with  conviction  of  the  exceeding 
sinfuhicss  of  sin.  It  was  your  own  sin  that  haunted  you. 
The  spectre  would  not 

"Down  at  your  bidding!" 

You  were  sore  troubled.  You  wept.  "With  red  eyes, 
and  the  tear  still  imdried  upon  your  cheek,  you  left  the 
sanctuary.  The  trifling  of  the  triflers,  as  they  came  out 
of  church  to  laugh,  to  gossip,  or  to  criticise,  astonished 
you,  and  grieved  you.  Feeling  so  much  yourself,  you 
wondered  how  they  could  be  so  apparently  "  past  feel- 
ing." Perhaps  you  prayed,  and  for  a  time  went  "  softly." 
Your  long  closed  Bible  was  opened.  Some  faithful  friend 
was  sought  for  religious  counsel.  And  all  that  time  the 
infinite  Spirit  of  God  was  striving  with  you.  Have  you 
ever  thought  of  the  magnitude  and  the  wonderful  mercy 
of  that  phrase,  "  striving  .^"  Just  think  of  it.  God 
striving  with  a  sinner  !  It  bespeaks  strait  and  struggle. 
It  bespeaks  the  anxiety  of  God  himself  to  save  His  own 
wicked  child.  It  is  as  if  the  ineffable  Redeemer  went 
down  upon  His  knees  before  the  willful,  disobedient 
one,  and  hesought  him  not  to  commit  the  eternal  sui- 
cide ! 

So  the  Divine  spirit  strove  with  you.  And  under 
those  strong  pressures  of  truth,  and  uprisings  of  con-  • 
science  and  wooings  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  you  were  "almost 
persuaded"  to  become  a  Christian.  But  alas!  how  is 
it  with  you  now  ?  Do  you  feel  to-night  as  you  felt  then  ? 
Does  the  word  svn  smite  you  as  then  ?     Does  the  word 


PAST   FEELING.  55f 

hell  strike  you  tlirougli  with  dread  ?  Does  the  word  duty 
arouse  you  as  then  %  Does  the  mention  of  that  blessed 
word  "  Savioue  "  stir  the  fount  of  tears  within  you,  as 
it  used  to  do  in  those  days  gone  by  ?  Can  you  weep 
now  as  you  wept  then  ?  Can  you  pray  as  you  prayed 
then  ?  Or  on  the  other  hand,  do  you  not  regard  the 
very  appeal  I  am  making  now  to  you,  as  a  merely  profes- 
sional thing  that  I  am  employed  to  make  twice  every 
week,  and  in  which  you  have  no  personal  concern  % 
Have  you  deliberately  made  up  your  mind,  that  in  spite 
of  warnings  and  entreaties,  that  through  sick  chambers 
and  dying  beds,  and  yawning  graves,  that  over  the  very 
cross  of  Jesus,  planted  in  your  guilty  path,  you  will 
press  your  way  onward  to  the  gates  of  hell  ? 

Then  I  do  not  say  that  you  are  ^^  jpast  feeling."  I  dare 
not  say  that.  God  only  knows  your  future.  But  most 
frankly  and  solemnly,  I  declare  to  you,  that  there  home 
hecn  cases  in  which  men  have  so  steeled  themselves 
against  conviction,  that  they  were  left,  like  "Lot's  wife," 
monuments  of  wrath !  I  do  not  know  that  this  is  your 
case  ;  but  I  fear  it.  I  cannot  bear  to  write  this  awful 
epitaph  over  your  soul,  dead  in  its  trespasses  and  sin — 
''Past  Feeling.'^''  The  very  thought  is  a  dagger  to  my 
soul.  Is  that  a  dreadful  moment  to  you,  in  w^hich  you 
are  compelled  to  enter  the  chamber  of  a  sick  friend, 
and  break  to  him  the  fatal  truth,  that  his  physician  has 
given  him  up  as  past  recovery  ?  You  would  give  your 
right  hand  to  avoid  that  duty,  but  fidelity  requires  it. 
And  I  should  be  an  unfaithful  watchman  for  souls,  if  I 
did  not  proclaim  to-night,  my  fears,  that  there  are  some 
now  here,  who  have  grieved  away  God's  Spirit  forever, 
and  have  already  passed 

"  that  mysterious  bourne, 

By  which  our  path  is  crossed, 
Beyond  which  God  himself  has  sworn, 
That  he  who  goes  is  lost!" 


56  THE   NEW   YORK   PULPIT. 

Occasionally  a  person  is  found  who  will  frankly  con- 
fess his  total  insensibility  to  all  that  is  most  precious  to 
a  saint,  to  all  that  is  most  startling  to  a  sinner.  A  faithful 
pastor  in  a  neighboring  State,  relates  an  instance  so  im- 
portant, as  a  proof  of  our  position,  that  I  shall  introduce 
it,  in  spite  of  certain  antiquated  prejudices  against  per- 
sonal narratives  in  the  pulpit.  My  Bible  is  full  of  per- 
sonal history ;  and  I  am  never  afraid  to  introduce  an 
anecdote,  or  relate  an  incident  which  makes  a  page  in 
the  great  book  of  God's  providence. 

"  I  once  entered  a  farm-house,"  said  this  pastor,  ''  on 
a  chilly  November  evening,  and  spent  an  hour  in  personal 
religious  conversation  with  its  inmates.  The  aged  father 
of  the  family — a  most  kind  and  amiable  man — ^followed 
me  to  the  door,  and  stopped  me  on  the  porch.  He  took 
me  by  the  hand,  and  most  deliberately  said :  '  I  thank 
you  for  this  visit,  and  hope  it  will  not  be  the  last.  As  you 
have  just  commenced  your  labors  among  us,  I  wish  to 
give  you  a  word  of  advice,  based  on  my  own  experience. 
Zet  us  old  people  alone,  and  devote  your  labors  to  the 
youth  of  your  flock.  Forty  years  ago,  I  was  greatly 
anxious  about  my  soul ;  many  were  then  converted,  but 
I  was  not  one  of  them.     During  the  ministry  of  Mr. 

M ,  many  more  were  converted,  but  I  was  not  one 

of  them.  And  now  for  years,  I  have  not  had  a  single 
feeling  on  the  subject !  I  know  that  I  am  a  lost  sinner ; 
I  know  that  I  can  only  be  saved  through  Jesus  Christ ; 
I  feel  persuaded  that  when  I  die,  /  am  lost !  I  believe 
all  you  preach,  but  I  feel  it  no  more  than  if  I  were  a 
block  of  marble.  I  exjDCct  to  live  and  die  just  as  I  am. 
So  leave  us  to  ourselves,  and  our  sins,  and  give  your 
strength  to  the  work  of  saving  the  young.' 

"  I  remembered  that  incident,  and  watched  the  progress 
of  that  man.  His  seat  was  rarely  vacant  in  the  sanctu- 
ary ;  but  he  was  a  true  prophet  of  his  own  fate.  He 
lived  as  he  predicted ;  and  so  he  died.     We  laid  him 


PAST   FEELING.  57 

down  at  last  in  liis  hopeless  grave,  in  tlie  midst  of  a 
congregation  over  whom  God  liad  so  often  opened 
windows  in  heaven."  lie  was  joined  to  his  idols  ;  God 
let  him  alone ! 

I  wonld  fain  leave  joii,  my  hearers,  to  withdraw  with 
the  tremulous  tones  of  that  old  man's  voice,  still  ringing 
in  your  ears.  I  would  prefer  that  you  should  go  home 
to  ponder  the  honest  confession  and  the  fate  of  one  who 
was  "  past  feeling  "  anything  but  his  own  indifference. 
Yet  I  cannot  dismiss  you  without  a  few  words  of  affec- 
tionate counsel  to  those  who  are  not  "  past  feeling  " — 
who  feel  now — ^who  cannot  but  feel  under  the  touch 
of  God's  Spirit.  Yonder  anxious  faces  are  the  dial- 
plates  of  anxious  hearts.  Li  this  silent,  hushed  assem- 
bly, we  seem  to  overhear  the  very  throb  of  those  hearts, 
palpitating  with  the  great  question^ — "  what  shall  I  do  to 
be  saved  ?" 

My  friend!  bear  away  with  you  from  this  house 
four  solemn  practical  suggestions  drawn  from  the  text 
before  us. 

I.  You  feel  now ;  but  do  not  le  content  with  mere 
feeling.  Tears  never  saved  a  sinner  ;  hell  is  vocal  with 
the  wails  of  the  weepers.  Faith  is  hetter  than  feeling. 
Your  Bible  does  not  say — feel  and  be  saved.  It  says, 
"  Believe  and  be  saved."  And  faith  is  not  enough 
without  action.  "  The  devils  believe."  There  are  no 
atheists  in  the  dungeons  of  the  damned.  But  lost  spirits 
do  not  love  God,  do  not  oley  Him.  You  must  obey  as 
well  as  believe.  Act  out  your  feelings.  Obey  God  in 
self-denying  duty.  Crystallize  your  feeling  into  faith, 
and  prove  your  faith  by  your  works.  "  Faith  without 
works  is  dead."  Faith  in  Jesus  is  the  invisible  root 
of  religion  concealed  within  the  soul ;  but  deeds  of  holy 
duty  are  the  glorious  outgrowth  with  stalwart  trunk, 
and  branches  broad,  and  luxuriant  masses  of  foliage 

3* 


58  THE   NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

lifted  into  tlie  airs  of  heaven.  And  amid  these  goodly 
boughs  are  found  the  fruits  of  godliness  shining — as 
quaint  Andrew  Marvell  said  of  the  Bermuda  oranges — 

"  Like  golden  lamps  in  a  deep  green  night." 

Aim  immediately  at  fruits.  Begin  to-night  to  serve 
God  from  principle.  Go  home  and  set  up  your  altar. 
Lay  hold  of  work ;  the  harder  it  is  the  better.  Paul 
struck  the  key-note  of  his  whole  religious  life  when  in 
the  gush  of  his  first  feeling  he  cried  out,  "  Lord,  what 
wilt  thou  have  me  to  do  ?" 

II.  My  second  suggestion  is,  that  what  you  do,  you 
must  do  quicldy,  for  you  cannot  long  remain  as  you  are. 
For  a  few  brief  days  in  May,  the  orchards  are  white 
with  blossoms.  They  soon  turn  to  fruit,  or  else  float 
away  useless  and  wasted  upon  the  idle  breeze.  It  will 
be  so  with  your  present  feelings.  Tliey  must  be  deep- 
ened into  decision,  or  be  entirely  dissipated  by  delay. 
You  must  advance,  or  be  lost.  As  the  result  of  your 
present  seriousness,  you  will  either  become  a  true  child 
of  God,  or  else  a  more  hardened  and  unfeeling  child  of 
wrath.  Dread  (as  you  would  dread  death  itself)  the 
very  idea  of  relapsing  into  indifference.  Cherish  con- 
viction. Take  your  fears  to  the  mercy-seat,  and  beseech 
your  compassionate  Saviour  not  to  permit  your  awa- 
kened soul  ever  to  become  "  past  feeling." 

in.  My  third  suggestion  is  a  brief  caution.  Do  not 
compare  your  own  feelings  with  those  of  other  people, 
or  allow  yourself  to  be  discouraged  because  you  have 
not  the  intense  griefs  or  the  lively  joys  of  which  they 
speak.  God  does  not  command  you  to  feel  like  this  one 
or  like  that.  He  ])ids  you  repent  and  lelieve  j  you  are 
to  conform  to  His  word  and  not  to  your  neighbors' 
varying  frames  and  feelings. 


PAST   FEELING.  59 

The  Holy  Spirit  deals  with  no  two  hearts  precisely 
alike.  He  opens  some  hearts  by  the  gentlest  touch 
of  love;  others  He  seems  to  wrench  open  as  with 
the  iron-bar  of  alarming  judgments.  Spurgeon  hax)pily 
remarks :  "  When  the  lofty  palm-tree  of  Zeilan  puis 
forth  its  flower,  the  sheath  bursts  with  a  report  that 
shakes  the  forest;  but  thousands  of  other  flowers  of 
equal  value  open  in  the  morning,  and  the  very  dew- 
drops  hear  no  sound  ;  even  so  many  souls  do  blossom  in 
mercy,  and  the  world  hears  neither  whirlwind  nor  tem- 
pest." Do  not  question  the  rightfulness  of  your  own 
heart-exercises  because  no  one  else  has  had  any  precisely 
similar.  God  will  not  bear  dictation.  He  is  a  Sove- 
reign. He  will  save  you  just  as  He  chooses.  Be  thank- 
ful that  you  can  be  saved  at  all.  See  to  it  that  you  do 
not  cavil  and  question  and  tamper  until  the  Holy  Spirit 
abandon  you  to  become  "  past  feeling." 

TV.  Finally,  let  me  remind  you  that  in  the  eternal 
world  no  one  can  be  indifferent,  no  one  shall  be  insensi- 
ble. Neither  in  heaven  nor  in  hell  can  you  ever  become 
"  past  feeling." 

The  home  of  the  ransomed  is  a  home  of  rapture. 
Heaven  is  alive  with  emotion.  Every  heart  throbs, 
every  eye  kindles,  every  tongue  is  praising,  every  finger 
strikes  a  harp-string.  Listen  with  the  ear  of  faith,  and 
you  can  hear  the  distant  oratorios  of  the  blessed  as  they 
swell  up  in  melodies  seraphic  and  celestial !  Look 
yonder  with  faith's  clear  eye,  and  you  will  see  the 
mighty  multitudes  before  the  throne.  You  will  behold 
the  flashing  shower  of  golden  crowns  flung  before  the 
feet  of  one  majestic  Being.  You  will  catch  one  outburst 
of  melody.  The  burden  of  the  strain  will  be  "  unto 
Him  that  loved  us,  and  washed  us  in  His  blood,  be  the 
praise  and  the  dominion  forever !"  'No  mortal's  name 
shall  be  heard  of  then.     Paul  shall  be  lost  sight  of  in 


60  THE   NEW   YOKE   PULPIT. 

the  glory  of  Paul's  Kedeemer.  Liitlier  will  be  unseen 
amid  tlie  worship  of  Luther's  Keformer.  John  Calvin 
shall  sing  None  hut  Christ!  And  John  Wesley  shall 
shout  back  None  hut  Christ!  With  one  heart  and 
one  voice  they  all  roll  high  the  magnificent  acclaim: 
"  Worthy  is  the  Lamb  that  was  slain  to  receive  honor, 
and  power,  and  glory,  and  blessing,  for  ever  and  ever ! ' 

The  world  of  darkness  will  be  a  world  of  feeling  too. 
"Tliere  shall  be  weeping"  there.  Not  tears  of  peni- 
tence, but  tears  of  despair.  The  worm  shall  never  die. 
There  will  be  a  fire  unquenchable  in  every  sinner's 
heart  that  will  burn  like  a  seven-times  heated  furnace. 
The  debauchee  will  be  gnawed  by  his  appetite  for  sen- 
sualities that  never  can  be  gratified.  Tlie  poor  dininkard 
will  be  possessed  with  a  passion  for  the  poison-bowl,  but 
will  find  not  a  single  drop  to  slake  the  undying  thirst. 
The  covetous  spirit  will  writhe  in  its  own  selfishness ;  and 
the  skeptic  will  be  tormented  with  the  constant  sight  of 
a  Jehovah  whom  he  once  denied,  and  of  a  heaven  which 
he  closed  against  himself.  "  Ye  knew  your  duty  and  ye 
did  it  not^^  will  blaze  in  lurid  flame  on  every  wall  of 
that  dark  prison-house ! 

Conscience  will  be  fearfully  busy  then — busy  in 
pointing  to  the  visions  of  a  Saviom-  offered  and  a  Sa- 
viour despised — ^busy  in  recalling  mercies  once  con- 
temned, and  precious  invitations  trampled  under  foot. 
Dying  friend!  You  may  smother  conscience  here. 
You  may  drown  serious  thought.  You  may  gag  your 
moral  sense.  But  that  smothered  conscience  will  rise 
again.  It  will  arise  in  the  dying  hour,  startled  from 
slumber  by  the  crash  of  dissolving  humanity.  It  will 
awake  to  new  life  on  that  dread  morn  when  the  Arch- 
angel's trump  shall  sound.  It  will  be  alive  with  an 
intensity  of  torment  on  that  day  when  the  "  books  are 
opened  ;  "  and  it  will  live  amid  the  agonies  of  perdition 
"^emer  again  to  hecome  past  feeling  ! 


lY. 
WHl     WILL     YE     DIE? 

BY  B.  C.  CUTLER,  D.D., 
Rector  of  St.  Ann's  Church,  Brooklyn. 

Why  will  ye  die?— Ezekiel  xviii.  81. 

The  divine  speaker  cannot  be  supposed  here  to  in- 
quire of  men,  why  tliey  will  sink  into  the  slumber  of 
the  grave ;  for  it  is  appointed  unto  men  thus  to  die. 
The  body  must  return  to  the  earth  as  it  was,  and  the 
spirit  must  return  to  God  who  gave  it.  The  death  here 
spoken  of  is  eternal  death ;  called  elsewhere  the  second 
death.  It  is  the  judgment  of  God  upon  sin.  "  The  soul 
that  sinneth  it  shall  die."  It  shall  be  condemned  and 
driven  from  the  presence  of  God,  and  be  sent  into  pun- 
ishment under  his  everlasting  curse.  The  very  words 
in  which  the  sentence  will  be  passed  by  the  Judge,  have 
already  been  transmitted  to  us.  "Then  shall  he  say 
also  to  them  on  his  left  hand.  Depart  from  me,  ye 
cursed,  into  everlasting  fire,  prepared  for  the  devil  and 
his  angels." 

ISTow  I  would  have  you  remark,  at  the  outset,  that 
this  death  or  punishment  was  not  originally  prepared 
for  men ;  for  you  or  for  me ;  it  was  prepared  for  the 
devil  and  his  angels.  This  leads  to  some  highly  impor- 
tant reflections.  God  would  not  say  to  the  devil  and 
his  angels,  "  Why  will  ye  die  ?"  For  they  cannot  now 
escape  that  which  eternal  justice  has  decreed  for  them. 


t>a  THE   NEW   YORK   PULPIT. 

But  God  can  with  reason  inqnire  of  men,  of  you,  my  un- 
converted hearers,  "  Why  will  ye  die  ?"  Why  enter  an 
abode  of  darkness,  and  weeping,  and  gnashing  of  teeth, 
wliere  the  worm  never  dies,  and  the  fire  is  never 
quenched;  a  place  not  prepared  for  you;  where,  of 
right,  you  should  not  be  ;  vv^here  the  decent  transgressor 
will  be  liorribly  shocked  by  the  exhibition  of  brutal, 
Satanic,  and  demoniacal  blasphemy,  hatred,  rebellion, 
and  fixed  and  eternal  desj)air  ?  God  may  well  stop  you, 
as  you  are  rushing  madly  along  the  broad  road  to  ruin, 
and  inquire  "Why  will  ye  die?"  Where  is  the  neces- 
sity that  you  should  enter  into  that  place  of  torment  ? 
You  have  been  redeemed  by  the  blood  of  the  Lamb. 
You  have  been  taught  by  the  gospel  of  my  grace.  You 
have  had  line  upon  line,  and  precej)t  upon  precept. 
You  have  seen  clearly  the  beauty  of  holiness,  and  the 
profitableness  of  piety.  Why  should  you  involve  your- 
selves in  the  ruin  of  apostate  spirits  ?  Why  go  to  the 
grave,  and  proceed  to  the  eternal  world,  to  taste  the 
bitter  cup  of  "  the  wine  of  the  wrath  of  Almighty  God  ?" 

This  is  the  simple  meaning  of  the  text ;  and  I  intend 
to  argue  the  matter  with  you  this  evening.  Why,  when 
you  were  born  to  so  high  a  destiny,  and  have  so  fair  an 
opportunity  to  enjoy  it,  you  should  be  willing — for 
willing  you  are — to  barter  all  this  for  a  trifle ;  nay, 
more,  to  yield  yourselves  up  to  what  must  certainly 
come  upon  you,  the  chains  of  eternal  death,  the  irrevo- 
cable doom  of  demons  and  aj)Ostate  spirits.  Oh,  why 
will  you  die  ? 

Now,  that  I  may  argue  the  matter  more  fairly,  I 
begin  by  showing  you  what  is  here  meant  by  dying 
We  know  little,  if  anything,  about  this  matter,  but  what 
we  learn  from  the  Scriptures.  In  reflecting  upon  the 
pangs  of  a  guilty  conscience,  or  the  painful  feelings  of 
remorse,  we  may  picture  to  ourselves  something  of  the 


WHY    WILL    YE    DIP:?  63 

sufferings  which  a  condemned  soul  will  experience  ;  but 
all  this  must  result  in  a  very  feeble  apprehension  of  the 
wrath  to  come. 

I  have  often  endeavored  to  discover  the  reason  why 
the  term  death  was  employed  in  this  connection ;  why 
punishment,  or  torment,  or  everlasting  burning,  or 
some  other  term,  not  associated  in  our  minds  with 
so  common  an  event  as  death,  was  not  employed ;  and 
the  only  reason  which  I  could  frame  was  this :  that  the 
future  suffering  of  the  wicked  is  to  be  a  mixture  of 
living  and  dying  agony  !  He  is  not  dead ;  for  he  is 
suffering,  and  conscious  of  suffering.  He  is  not  living, 
in  our  sense  of  the  word;  but  his  fate  is  sealed — ^his 
work  is  done.  Death  was  the  word ;  for  he  w^as  to 
experience  something  like  the  death  struggle,  and  that 
of  the  severest  kind ;  and  that  protracted  for  ever  and 
ever ! 

"  He  is  to  be  banished  for  his  life, 
And  yet  forbid  to  die, — 
To  linger  in  eternal  pain, 
Yet  death  for  ever  fly." 

ISTow,  tills  is  a  dreadful  thought.  The  vagueness  of  it 
does  not  diminish,  it  rather  increases  the  force  and 
intensity  of  the  term.  "  Why  will  ye  die  ?"  Why  be 
for  ever  dying  ?  Men  often  beg  to  be  put  out  of  the 
misery  of  mere  corporeal  death.     But 

"  Oh,  what  eternal  horrors  hang 
Around  the  second  death  !" 

Oh,  what  a  pall  does  not  this  throw  over  the  futurity 
of  the  sinner !  Amidst  the  dusky  shades  beneath  its 
folds  what  anguish  do  we  not  discern,  and  where,  in  the 
vast,  illimitable  creation  of  God,  is  the  sun  which  is  to 
rise  upon  this  darkness  ?     Death  is  the  word  which  God 


f)4  TOK   NEW   YORK   PULPIT. 

lias   chosen,  and  it  niiist  have   some   peculiar  signifi- 
cancy. 

When  the  body  dies,  it  falls  to  the  earth  in  a  state  of 
helplessness.  No  power  remains  in  it  to  defend  itself. 
No  opposition  can  it  offer  to  any  disposition  which  you 
make  of  it.  Vacancy  is  stamped  on  the  countenance 
of  the  dead ;  the  eyes  are  fixed,  the  mouth  unclosed, 
and  the  proud  and  noble  structure  may  be  trodden 
under  foot,  and  will  not  stir  when  the  heel  is  lifted  up 
against  it.  You  may  imprison  it  in  the  deepest  and 
darkest  grave,  and  it  will  make  no  resistance ;  or  you 
may  lay  it  on  the  funeral  pile  and  consume  it  to  ashes ; 
it  is  helpless  still ;  it  is  unresisting  ;  it  is  perfectly  sub- 
missive. Before  death,  the  sinner  may  determine  that 
this  or  that  shall  be  done  with  his  body  ;  but  after  death, 
all  such  disposition  is  dependent  upon  others. 

Quietly,  then,  as  the  dead  are  laid  in  the  grave, 
without  one  protest ;  passive  as  they  remain,  while 
becoming  the  food  of  worms — so  helpless  will  the  impen- 
itent sinner  fall  into  the  fiery  bed  of  the  second  death, 
and  experience  all  his  agonies.  His  soul  will  be  passive, 
when  thrust  into  the  inner  prison,  and  no  resistance  will 
be  made,  while  he  is  bound  with  chains  that  will  never 
rust  and  never  be  broken ;  passive  as  the  dead  man  now 
is,  when  you  dress  him  in  his  winding-sheet,  and  pre- 
pare him  for  the  grave.  The  sinner  can  no  more  resist, 
w^lien  conmiitted  to  the  flames  of  the  everlasting  fire 
prepared  for  the  devil  and  his  angels,  than  the  dead  man 
now  resists  when  committed  by  living  men  to  the  tomb. 

As  God  does  not  ask  demons,  why  will  ye  die  ?  so 
neither  will  he  inquire  of  sinners,  why  will  ye  suffer  ? 
For  they  must  suffer  ;  their  fate  is  sealed  ;  the  mexorable 
decree  of  heaven  is  being  put  in  execution,  and  God  is 
no  respecter  of  persons. 

But  anotlier  feature  in  this  gloomy  object  strikes  us  as 


WHY   WILL   YE   DIE?  65 

probably  contributing  to  cause  its  name  to  have  been 
thus  appropriated.  Death  is  synonymous  with  destruc- 
tion. The  man  dies  to-day.  One  hundred  years  hence, 
open  his  coffin,  and  you  may  see  that  destruction  has 
done  its  perfect  work.  ]^ot  more  than  a  handful  of 
dust,  or  a  gold  ring,  may  be  found. 

Now,  I  mean  to  take  this  as  I  do  the  other  analogy, 
o]ily  in  part.  I  mean  to  say,  that  in  the  future  punish- 
ment of  the  wicked,  there  will  be  an  extinction  of  all 
haj)piness ;  a  destitution  of  all  pleasure,  comfort,  or  im- 
provement ;  a  destruction  of  all  social  ties ;  of  our  rela- 
tionship to  God,  as  redeemed  by  Christ ;  of  all  present 
hopes,  aspirations,  reasonings,  excuses,  defences,  expec- 
tations, and  self-flatteries.  Tlie  soul  will  be  ruined, 
will  be  undone  ;  and  in  comparison  with  an  undoomed 
soul,  will  be  as  a  dead  and  mouldering  corpse,  compared 
with  a  youthful  and  beautiful,  living  and  breathing- 
form,  rejoicing  upon  God's  footstool.  Utter  destruction 
overtakes  the  soul ;  it  will  be  coffined  up ;  it  will  be  bu- 
ried out  of  sight  of  the  righteous  ;  it  will  be  insensible  to 
all  happiness  and  joy  ;  its  case  is  fixed  ;  the  seal  of  God 
is  set  upon  its  sepulchre — the  great  seal  of  Heaven.  It 
is  dead.  Angels  so  account  it ;  as  one  gone,  who  will 
be  heard  of  no  more. 

"We  may  almost  fancy  its  funeral  rites.  Among  the 
mourners  is  God  the  Father,  saying,  "  Hear,  O  heavens, 
and  give  ear,  O  earth ;  I  have  nourished  and  brought 
up  children,  and  they  have  rebelled  against  me." 
Among  the  mourners  is  God  the  Son,  saying,  "  O  Jeru- 
salem, Jerusalem,  who  killest  the  prophets  and  stonest 
them  that  are  sent  unto  thee,  how  often  would  I  have 
gathered  thy  children,  but  ye  would  not."  There,  too, 
is  God  the  Holy  Ghost,  whose  strivings  have  been  so 
long  resisted,  and  who  has  been  so  often  grieved  away, 
saying,  "  0  that  thou  hadst  hearkened  to  my  voice ; 


66  THE   NEW   YORK    PULPIT. 

then  had  thy  peace  been  as  a  river,  and  thy  righteous- 
ness as  the  waves  of  the  sea."  Tliere  are  throngs  of  an- 
gels, standing  in  mute  amazement,  wondering  at  the 
spectacle.  There  are  pious,  departed  parents,  crying 
with  one  of  old,  "  My  son,  my  son ;  would  to  God  I  had 
died  for  thee."  There  are  departed  children,  whose 
hopes  of  a  re-union  are  now  blasted  for  ever,  crying, 
"  Oh  my  father,  if  the  prophet  had  bid  thee  do  some 
great  thing,  wouldst  thou  not  have  done  it  ?" 

Then,  as  the  departed  sinner  reaches  the  place  of  tor- 
ment, lost  souls  rise  up  to  meet  him,  saying,  "  Art  thou 
become  weak  as  we  ?  Art  thou  become  like  unto  us? 
Is  thy  pomp  brought  down  to  the  grave  ?  Is  the  worm 
spread  under  thee,  and  do  the  worms  cover  thee  ?  O 
Lucifer,  son  of  the  morning,  how  art  thou  fallen."  Then 
commences  the  funeral  service  on  the  earth.  "Man, 
that  is  born  of  a  woman,  hath  but  a  short  time  to  live, 
and  is  full  of  misery.  O  merciful  Saviour,  thou  most 
worthy  Judge  eternal,  suffer  us  not  at  our  last  hour,  for 
any  pains  of  death,  to  fall  from  thee.  O  Lord  God  most 
holy,  O  Lord  most  mighty,  O  holy  and  most  merciful 
Saviour,  deliver  us  not  into  the  bitter  pains  of  eternal 
death." 

There  is  one  mourner  more.  It  is  the  earnest  minis- 
ter. Hear  his  lament :  "  1  called ,  but  he  refused  ;  I 
exhorted,  but  was  unheeded ;  I  besought  him,  as  though 
God  did  beseech  him,  to  be  reconciled  to  God.  But  he 
would  none  of  my  counsel ;  he  despised  all  my  reproof, 
and  now  he  is  gone  for  ever.  Mene,  Mene,  Tekel,  Ilph- 
arsin.  He  is  weighed  in  the  balance  and  found  want- 
ing. He  promised  himself  that  he  would  repent  the 
next  year,  the  next  week,  the  next  day  !  But  it  is  all 
over  now.     Farewell !  Farewell !" 

Oh  that  these  reflections  might  make  some  salutary 
impressions  on  your  minds  !     Oh  that  your  impressions 


WHY    AVILL    YE    DIE?  67 

were  as  deep  as  my  own ;  not  to  say  as  deep  as  the  sub- 
ject demands.  Then  might  I  entertain  the  hope  that 
when  I  lay  myself  out  to  put  this  question  to  you,  my 
beloved  friends,  in  some  of  the  variety  of  applications  of 
which  it  is  capable,  it  might  be  sent  home,  and  the  pro- 
per response  given  from  your  hearts. 

I  begin  with  the  most  important,  though  not  the  most 
forcible  reason  for  your  non-compliance  with  the  call  of 
the  gospel.  I  ask  you,  "  Why  will  ye  die  ?"  Why  will 
you  persist  in  a  course  of  sin,  which  must  end  in  condem- 
nation, and  must  draw  down  the  wrath  of  God  forever  ? 
I  ask  you,  why  ?  ]^ow,  if  you  are  in  a  calm  and  contro- 
versial frame  of  mind,  you  will  probably  reply :  "  Because 
I  am  not  able  of  myself  to  change  my  own  heart.  I  carm  ot 
escape  eternal  death,  unless  God  himself  shall  begin  the 
work  in  me.  '  It  is  not  of  him  that  willeth,  nor  of  him 
that  runneth,  but  of  God  that  showeth  mercy.' "  This  is 
very  true,  and  very  good  in  its  place  ;  but  it  is  not  the 
proper  ground  for  you  to  take.  It  is  found  in  the  Epistle 
to  the  Komans  ;  and  it  has  been  there  for  eighteen  hun- 
dred years.  But  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans  is  not  the 
only  book  in  the  Bible.  There  are  sixty-four  other  books 
besides  that ;  and  in  one  of  those  sixty -four  you  may  find 
a  whole  chapter  especially  devoted  by  the  Holy  Spirit 
to  answer  this  very  objection,  which  chapter  the  author 
of  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans  had  read,  and  he  knew  that 
he  was  not  writing  anything  against  that.  Whatever 
St.  Paul  meant  to  teach  in  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans — 
and  even  St.  Peter  did  not  appear  to  comprehend  all — 
we  know  that  the  prophet  Ezekiel  meant  to  teach  that 
no  man  was  under  a  necessity  to  be  lost.  Everything 
on  that  subject  is  clear  and  luminous  in  the  proj^het ; 
and  one  careful  reading  of  the  chapter  from  which  I 
have  taken  my  text  will  remove  the  wliole  objection  of 
the  necessity  of  your  remaining  in  sin ;  either  because 


68  THE   NEW   YORK   PULPIT. 

you  descended  from  sinful  parents,  or  because  you  now 
are  conscious  of  a  sinful  heart.  I  am  not  willing  to 
waste  your  time  in  meeting  any  sucli  objection  as  this. 

I  ask  again,  Wliy  will  ye  die  ?  If  you  should  return 
an  honest  answer,  you  would  say,  because  you  cannot 
give  up  the  pleasures  of  sin  and  the  enjoyment  of  the 
present  world.  This  answer  might  be  given  by  a  very 
large  proportion  of  those  who  attend  upon  the  preaching 
of  the  gospel.  Out  of  the  church  men  might  frame 
other  reasons.  They  are  infidels,  or  atheists,  and,  there- 
fore, all  such  appeals  they  easily  dispose  of,  and  con- 
temptuously and  blasphemously  deride  ;  i.  ^.,  while  in 
health,  while  the  evil  day  is  far  off,  while  the  enemy 
is  at  a  distance.  But  1  am  addi-essing  a  different 
class  of  persons ;  men  who  believe  the  Bible  and 
the  Christian  religion ;  who  admit  that  it  reveals  a 
state  of  eternal  misery  as  the  certain  doom  of  the 
sinner.  Such,  then,  I  ask.  Why  will  ye  run  the  fear- 
ful risk  of  encountering  an  eternal  tempest  of  wrath? 
If  you  reply  with  honesty  you  will  say  :  "  Because  we 
love  the  present  world ;  it  is  suited  to  our  taste ;  it 
possesses  abundant  means  of  enjoyment,  and  we  have 
the  power  of  purchasing  its  pleasures."  Admitting  that 
pleasure  and  enjoyment  can  be  found  in  the  things  of 
this  world,  how  long  can  you  possess  them  ?  A  few 
years,  at  most ;  and  then  old  age,  or  death,  will  finish 
the  feast.  Let  us  suppose  that  you  have  arrived  at  old 
age,  or  at  death's  door.  How,  then,  will  you  look  upon 
your  present  life  ?  You  will,  you  must  then  die.  This 
is  a  feature  in  the  case  which  you  cannot  avoid.  A 
time  will  arrive  when  your  enjoyment  must  come  to  an 
end ;  and  as  you  are  a  reasoning  and  reflecting  being, 
you  must  reflect  and  reason  about  your  present  life. 

You  are  standing  on  the  brink  of  eternity.  You 
are  shivering  on  tlie  edge  of  the  great  precipice.    The 


WHY    WILL   YE    DIE?  69. 

dark  ocean  is  rolling  and  raging  beneath  you.  Yon  are 
transfixed  to  the  spot.  Reason  will  have  its  honr.  Re- 
flections will  crowd  upon  the  soul  before  the  fatal  leap 
is  taken.  A  lucid  interval  will  be  enjoyed.  How,  then, 
as  you  wake  up  from  the  dream  of  sin,  will  your  life  of 
folly  and  impiety  appear  ?  How  will  days,  months,  and 
years  melt  into  each  other,  and  each  important  period 
seem  to  say,  "  What  fruit  had  ye  then  in  those  things 
of  which  ye  are  now  ashamed  ?"  If  there  is  a  death  after 
that  of  the  body,  a  second  death,  if  that  shall  stare  thee 
in  the  face,  will  not  thy  present  choice  appear  as  mad- 
ness ?  Will  it  not  appear  that  Satan  hath  blinded  your 
mind,  duj)ed  your  will,  deceived  your  heart,  and  led  you 
on,  step  by  step,  to  eternal  ruin  ?  What  proportion  can 
the  pleasures  of  time  bear  to  the  pleasures  of  eternity  ? 
What  compensation  can  the  richest  life  here  afford  for 
the  eternal  shipwreck  of  the  soul  ? 

We  have  taken  it  for  granted,  that  you  possess  a 
superabundance  of  this  world's  goods,  and  that  you  will 
enjoy  them  to  the  end  of  a  long  life. 

But  few  of  the  persons  whom  I  am  addressing  have  a 
superabundance  of  this  world's  goods ;  few  of  them  fully 
enjoy  that  share  which  they  possess ;  and  all,  even  the 
most  fortunate,  are  subject  to  one  great  drawback,  sudden 
death ;  subject  to  an  instantaneous  disruption  from  all 
their  present  possession.  Ah !  this  is  the  goad  that  stings 
them.  This  is  the  thorn  which  is  planted  in  their  pil- 
lows. This  is  the  dagger  which  memory,  or  reason,  or 
reflection,  or  the  preacher's  voice,  or  the  passing  funeral 
plunges  into  the  very  life  and  soul  of  their  joys.  Tlie 
rich  voluptuary  has  parted  with  his  guests  ;  their  flatteries 
and  gratulations  are  ringing  in  his  ears ;  but  with  a 
curling  lip,  and  a  cloudy  brow,  he  rises  up  from  the 
table,  to  walk  to  and  fro  in  his  mansion,  and  to  muse  up- 
on, and  murmur  at  his  lot ;  saying,  "  all  this  availeth  me 


70  THE   NEW    YORK   PULriT. 

nothing,  since  death  standeth  at  the  door  day  and  night, 
to  cany  me  out.  Yes  !  before  another  sun  has  risen  and 
set,  I  may  be  in  my  grave.  The  coffin  may  now  be  made, 
in  which,  a  helpless  load,  I  shall  be  laid  by  strange 
hands.  The  cloth  may  now  be  woven,  which  is  to  en- 
shroud my  pampered  body ;  and  my  first  departure  from 
these  doors,  may  be  my  last  sight  of  this  dwelling-place. 
"  Perhaps  the  clock  is  now  wound  up,  which  before  it 
needs  attention  again,  will  strike  the  last  hour  of  my 
probationary  time." 

I  say  then,  the  uncertainty  of  all  possessions  here  be- 
low, the  certain  exhaustion  of  happiness  in  them  if  long 
possessed ;  the  utter  wreck  of  life,  for  all  true  and  valu- 
able purposes,  if  eternal  salvation  be  not  made  sure,  this, 
I  say,  should  be  sufficient  for  one  endowed  with  reason, 
to  make  him  pause  before  he  shall  embark  his  eternal 
all  on  this  perilous  voyage. 

And  I  ask.  Why  will  ye  die  ?  Why  for  this  vain  world 
consent  to  endure  eternal  death,  eternal  suffering,  eter- 
nal despair  ?  What  shall  it  profit  yon  to  gain  the  whole 
world,  and  lose  your  own  soul  ?  Look  at  the  world  again ; 
refiect,  ye  who  have  long  possessed  it,  npon  its  real 
value ;  consider  how  often  you  have  despised  it ;  like 
Solomon,  pronounced  it  vanity ;  lamented  your  fatal  at- 
tachment to  it ;  felt  the  galling  chain  of  its  servitude  ; 
and  wished,  heartily  wished,  that  you  could,  with  all 
jrou  possess,  purchase  that  religious  peace  which  passeth 
all  understanding.  "  If  this  is  done  in  the  green  tree, 
what  will  be  done  in  the  dry  ?  If  such  are  your  reflec- 
tions to-day  when  in  health,  and  when  death  seems  afar 
off,  what  will  be  your  reflections  when  death  standeth 
at  the  door,  when  you  have  but  a  few  moments  to  live  ? 
What  would  you  not  then  give  for  one  day  of  salvation, 
for  a  good  hope  of  heaven  ?  Oh,  what  words  could  con- 
vey the  unutterable  agony,  the  heart-bursting  anguish 


WHY    WILL    YE    DIE  ?  71 

of  the  dying  sinner?  Many  are  the  big  drops  exuded 
from  the  brow  of  the  dying  man,  which  proclaim  with 
trumpet-tongue  his  parting  struggle. 

I  can  supjDOse  but  one  more  answer,  which  will  be 
given  to  the  question  of  the  text.  Why  will  ye  die  ?  It 
is  this :  "  I  do  not  intend  to  die — for  ever.  God  forbid 
that  I  should  allow  death  to  come  upon  me  unprepared. 
I  shall,  no  doubt,  live  many  years.  By  and  by,  when 
the  great  objects  of  this  life  are  accomplished,  or  nearly 
so,  I  will  turn  my  attention  to  my  soul." 

This  reply  might  be  put  in  many  forms  by  old  and 
young,  by  men  in  high  station  and  in  humble.  It  is, 
however,  the  same  in  all.  This,  say  they,  is  not  the 
time  for  conversion,  for  piety,  for  religion.  Yet  it  cer- 
tainly is  the  time  in  which  God  puts  the  question  of  the 
text.  Tlie  Lord  is  in  his  holy  temple.  There  is  His  holy 
word,  from  whicli  the  text  is  taken.  You  have  assem- 
bled to  hear  the  word  of  the  Lord.  You  have  learned 
the  first  principles  of  the  doctrine  of  Christ.  You  have 
had  sermons  and  lectures  on  all  the  important  doctrines 
and  duties  of  the  Gospel.  Your  reason,  your  con- 
science, your  understanding,  your  hearts  have  been 
addi'essed.  Patiently  and  laboriously  have  one  and 
another  important  feature  of  Gospel  truth  been  set  forth. 
You  have  had  truth  upon  truth ;  truth  in  abundance 
presented  to  your  minds,  and  now  it  is  high  time  to 
awake  out  of  sleep.  We  come  to  inquire,  what  is  the 
result  of  all  this  labor  ?  What  wait  ye  for  ?  In  what 
new  aspect  can  you  expect  the  Gospel  to  be  set  forth  ? 
What  new  turn  in  your  affairs  can  you  expect  to  be 
more  propitious  than  the  present?  When  will  the 
world  appear  less  attractive,  or  business  be  less  engross- 
ing, or  domestic  cares  less  absorbing  ?  When  will  you 
be  in  better  health,  more  vigorous  in  mind,  or  more  fit 
to  take  up  your  cross  and  follow  Christ  ?     Have  you 


72  THE    NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

much  to  give  up  ?  So  mucli  the  more  noble  the  sacrifice 
you  make  for  Christ.  He  was  ricli^  yet  for  your  sake 
He  became  poor.     He  laid  down  His  life  for  you. 

But  you  do  not  mean  to  delay  long.  Do  not  deceive 
yourselves.  A  year  ago,  ten  years  ago,  you  resolved  to 
reform,  but  you  remain  the  same.  No !  if  you  delay 
one  moment,  you  are  willing  to  delay  for  ever.  You 
are  willing,  in  a  deep  and  awful  sense,  to  die  ;  a  sense 
in  which  God  employs  the  word.  You  have  no  in- 
tention of  repenting.  You  are  fixed  in  sin  and  unbe- 
lief; and  you  should  look  upon  yourself  as  one  who  is 
determined  to  abide  the  issue ;  and  to  let  things  take 
their  course ;  and  to  let  the  sands  slowly  slip  through 
the  glass,  until  your  short  hour  of  life  is  gone,  and  then 
die  eternally. 

Oh,  retire  with  the  conviction  that  it  is  God,  and  not 
man,  who  asks  this  question  ;  that  it  is  the  language  of 
surprise  and  sorrow,  yet  of  calmness,  and  a  determina- 
tion to  let  justice  after  this  take  its  course,  and  be 
glorified.  Oh,  why  will  you,  my  hearers,  for  whom  so 
many  prayers  have  been  oftered  and  so  many  sermons 
preached,  why  will  ye  die  ?  Why  will  you  experience 
such  a  reverse?  ISTow  you  may  retire  to  your  habi- 
tations ;  to  your  comforts  and  luxuries ;  to  find  every 
want  supplied  (and  anticipated) ;  to  hear  from  every 
quarter  the  language  of  aflfection,  or  obedience  and 
respect.  Why,  then,  stand  in  jeopardy  every  hour,  and 
of  what  ?  Not  of  losing  all  these  ;  not  of  going  down 
to  the  grave,  though  that  is  change  enough ;  not  of 
death  temporal,  but  of  such  dying  as  God  urges  you  to 
avoid,  as  the  son  of  God  came  to  deliver  you  from,  and 
the  Holy  Ghost  sends  men  to  warn  you  of,  and  now 
to  persuade  you  to  escape. 

Take  home,  then,  the  text.  Let  conscience  whisper  it 
to  you  in  the  dead  of  night.     Let  the  heart,  if  now  it 


WHY   WILL   YE   DIE?  73 

feels,  clierish  its  present  impressions  and  not  obliterate 
them.  Let  parents  put  the  question  to  children  ;  chil- 
dren to  parents ;  husbands  to  wives ;  wives  to  hus- 
bands ;  sisters  to  brothers  ;  brothers  to  sisters.  Saj  no 
more.  Say  onlj  this.  Say  it  seriously,  affectionately, 
at  a  favorable  moment.  Or  open  the  Bible  and  point  it 
out,  and  say  nothing,  and  the  work  may  at  length  be 
done. 


Y. 

THE   WISE   DECISIOIsr. 

BY  EDWARD  LATHROP,  D.D., 

Pastor  of  Tabernacle  Baptist-  Church,  Second  Avenue,  New  York. 

By  faith  Moses,  when  he  was  come  to  years,  refused  to  be  called  the 
son  of  Pharaoh's  daughter;  choosing  rather  to  sufl'er  affliction  with  the 
people  of  God,  than  to  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  sin  for  a  season;  esteeming 
the  reproach  of  Christ  greater  riches  than  the  treasures  in  Egypt;  for  he 
had  respect  unto  the  recompense  of  the  reward. — Hebrews  xi.  24-26. 

I  ADDRESS  myself  at  this  time  particularly  to  tlie 
young,  and  especially  to  young  men,  who  must  soon  de- 
termine those  questions  which  will  be  decisive  of  their 
eternal  destiny.  I  take,  as  the  illustration  of  my  sub- 
ject, the  happy  decision  of  Moses,  at  that  critical  period 
in  his  life,  when  he  was  j)ressed  by  conflicting  motives, 
and  when,  upon  the  choice  which  he  then  made,  the 
scale  which  had  trembled  on  its  poise,  turned  on  the 
side  of  duty  to  God, — of  a  life  of  holiness, — of  an  aim  at 
heaven.  What  a  momentous  decision  !  To-day  I  speak 
to  those  who  have  reached  that  same  critical  point, — who 
are  pressed  by  similar  conflicting  motives,  and  whose 
decision,  perhaps  at  this  time — while  listening  to  this 
sermon — may  determine  the  whole  of  their  subsequent 
career,  both  for  time  and  for  eternity.  God  grant  that 
such  decision  may  be  unto  life  and  not  unto  death ! 

We  are  to  notice,  in  the  first  place,  what  it  was  that 
Moses  declined,  when  he  "  refused  to  be  called  the  son 

74 


THE   WISE   DECISION.  75 

of  Pharaoh's  daughter."  Tlie  text  says,  "  the  pleasures 
of  sin  for  a  season,"  and  "  the  treasures  in  Egypt." 

Let  us  glance  rapidly  at  the  circumstances  of  the  case, 
as  indicated  in  the  language  just  quoted, — "  the  pleasures 
of  sin,"  and  "  the  treasures  in  Egypt."  Egypt,  at  the 
time  here  referred  to,  was  the  most  powerful  kingdom 
on  earth,  and  probably  the  most  corru23t.  Its  court  was 
the  centre  of  luxury  and  vice.  Thither  resorted  the  in- 
quisitive and  pleasure-seeking  of  all  nations,  attracted 
either  by  the  reputation  of  the  schools  of  learning  there 
established,  or  by  the  facilities  there  afforded  for  indulg- 
ing in  every  species  of  animal  enjoyment,  from  the  most 
refined  to  the  most  debasing.  The  character  of  the 
Egyptian  court,  at  the  period  here  spoken  of,  is  well  de- 
scribed by  the  phrase,  "  the  pleasures  of  sin."  What- 
ever a  depraved  or  fastidious  taste  could  covet,  the 
abundant  resources  of  Egypt  readily  supplied.  The 
riches  of  the  empire  were  unbounded.  Egypt  was  the 
granary  of  the  world.  Into  its  treasury  was  poured  the 
wealth  of  all  other  inhabited  portions  of  the  globe  ;  and 
such  was  the  political  structure  of  the  government,  that 
the  king  and  the  king's  household  possessed  almost  un- 
limited control  of  the  resources  of  the  nation.  To  speak 
of  "  the  treasures  in  Egypt,"  is  but  another  form  of  ex- 
pression for  afS-uence  the  most  abundant  and  lavish.  In 
one  word,  the  Egyptian  court,  at  the  time  of  which  I 
now  speak,  was  the  most  attractive  spot  on  earth  to  one 
who  was  in  pursuit  of  mere  worldly  pleasure. 

Moses  had  been  rescued  trom  the  Nile  by  the  daugh- 
ter— and,  as  is  generally  supposed,  the  only  child — of 
the  then  reigning  monarch.  By  her  he  had  been 
adopted,  and  brought  up  as  her  own  son.  The  design 
of  the  princess,  says  Josephus,  was  to  make  Moses  "  her 
father's  successor,  if  it  should  please  God  she  should  have 
no  legitimate  child  of  her  own."   But,  be  this  as  it  may, 


76'  THE  NEW   YORK   PULPIT. 

there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  intention  of  the  royal 
princess  was  to  make  Moses  her  own  heir,  and  the  pos- 
sessor, ultimately,  of  the  vast  treasure  which  she  would 
inherit  as  the  only  child  of  the  most  powerful  monarch 
on  earth.  This  fact  is  distinctly  referred  to  in  the  text, 
in  which  it  is  said,  that  Moses  esteemed  "  the  reproach 
of  Christ  greater  riches  than  the  treasures  in  Egypt" — 
that  is,  the  treasures  of  which  he  was  the  prospective 
heir. 

Such  were  the  outward  circumstances  under  which 
the  Hebrew  child  grew  up.  Wealth,  and  luxury,  and 
power  were  the  attendants  of  his  childhood  and  youth ; 
even  to  mature  manhood  these  had  ministered  to  his 
daily  desires;  and  all  this  wealth,  and  luxury,  and 
power,  he  had  been  led  to  believe,  were  to  be  his  to  an 
unlimited  extent.  Thus,  to  the  son  of  a  slave,  were 
proffered  the  pleasures,  and  the  possessions  of  the 
mightiest  empire  on  which  the  sun  then  shone. 

But  there  is  here  another  circumstance  to  be  noted. 
Moses,  while  thus  flattered,  and,  no  doubt,  greatly  in- 
fluenced by  the  motives  addressed  to  his  ambition,  and 
his  natural  love  of  pleasure,  was,  at  the  same  time,  the 
subject  of  other  influences,  which,  all  unknown  to  the 
giddy  throng  about  him,  had  been  brought  to  bear  upon 
him  in  his  infancy  and  early  boyhood.  The  woman, 
employed  by  the  Egyptian  princess  to  be  the  nurse  of 
the  rescued  child,  was  his  own  Hebrew  mother.  From 
her  lips  he  received  his  earliest  instructions.  By  her  he 
had  been  taught  the  knowledge  of  the  true  God,  and 
had  been  made  acquainted  with  the  reserved  blessings 
promised  to  his  chosen  people.  The  impress  of  her 
warm  maternal  heart  was  upon  him,  and  no  subsequent 
influences  were  able  to  efface  this  beautiful  image  from 
his  soul.  Oh,  a  mother's  love  !  a  mother's  godly  conver- 
sation and  example !     Who  can  estimate  their  influence  ? 


THE   WISE    DECISION.  77 

But  you  see  what  Moses  had  to  contend  with  in  the 
shape  of  insinuating,  seductive  temptations.  Kiches, 
pleasure,  power — all  that  could  appeal  to  an  ardent  and 
ambitious  mind, — and  all,  nay,  immensely  more  than 
that  for  which  multitudes  in  our  day  are  ready  to  barter 
heaven  with  its  eternal  "  recompense  of  reward," — all 
these  were  temptingly  offered  to  Moses,  and  all  these  he 
declined,  rejected^  when  he  "refused  to  be  called  the 
son  of  Pharaoh's  daughter." 

And  you  will  here  mark  especially  the  motive  which 
influenced  Moses  in  this  decision.  He  declined  the 
pleasures  of  the  Egyptian  court,  not  because  he  was  in- 
sensible to  the  attractions  of  that  court,  and  not  because 
he  was  destitute  of  those  natural  propensities  which  in- 
clined him  to  gratify  the  desires  of  the  flesh ;  but  he 
rejected  these  things  because  they  were  "  the  pleasures 
of  sin" — ^because  he  could  not  indulge  in  them  and 
be  guiltless.  And  he  rejected  "  the  treasures  in  Egypt," 
not  because  he  might  not,  under  other  circumstances, 
possess  riches,  but  because  he  could  not  hold  these  trea- 
sures without  doing  violence  to  his  conscience,  and  dis- 
obeying the  law  of  his  God. 

N^otice,  now,  in  the  next  place,  what  it  was  that 
Moses  made  choice  of  rather  than  "  the  pleasures  of 
sin,"  and  "  the  treasures  in  Egypt :" — "  choosing  rather 
to  suffer  affliction  with  the  people  of  God."  Who  were 
the  people  of  God,  whose  lot  this  man  preferred,  and 
whose  destiny  he  was  willing  to  share  ?  They  were  the 
most  abused,  and,  outwardly,  the  most  degraded  of  all 
slaves.  They  were  the  very  scorn  and  contempt  of  the 
proud  Egyptian  nobility.  Their  task-masters  were  the 
most  cruel,  their  work  the  most  servile,  their  privileges 
the  most  scanty,  and  their  sufferings,  all  things  con- 
sidered, almost  unendurable.  Yerily,  they  were  an 
afflicted  people.     Oppression  had  ground  them  to  the 


78  THE    NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

dust.  "Wearisome  days  and  niglits  were  appointed  tliem. 
How  few,  even  of  the  lowly  and  despairing,  would  have 
chosen  this  people  as  their  companions  and  brethren  ? 
But  who,  with  the  flattering  prospects  of  Moses  before 
him,  would  have  turned  away  from  the  treasures  of 
Egypt,  and  the  pleasures  of  that  seductive  court,  for  the 
companionship  and  the  destiny  of  a  nation  of  slaves  ? 

And  here,  as  we  pass,  I  wish  you  to  notice  another 
thing.  As  Moses  did  not  relinquish  the  pleasures  which 
surroimded  him,  in  the  household  of  Pharaoh,  because 
he  was  insensible  to  the  influence  of  such  attractions,  and 
as  he  did  not  decline  the  riches  which  were  proffered 
him  in  Egypt,  because  it  would  have  been  wrong  in 
him,  under  other  circumstances,  to  possess  riches ;  so,  in 
this  latter  case,  he  did  not  choose  to  suffer  aflSliction  with 
the  people  of  God,  because  he  had  any  natural  fondness 
for  suffering,  or  because  affliction,  in  itself,  was  a  thing 
to  be  desired,  or  because  it  would  furnish  a  meritorious 
ground  of  his  acceptance  with  God ;  but,  with  a  higher 
aim,  he  preferred  the  people  of  God,  in  spite  of  their  afflic- 
tions ;  he  preferred  them  because  they  were  the  people 
of  God,  notwithstanding  their  poverty,  and  destitution, 
and  disgrace;  he  preferred  them,  because  truth  and 
righteousness  were  on  their  side,  while,  on  the  other 
side,  were  only  falsehood  and  sin,  although  concealed 
under  the  names  of  pleasure  and  riches. 

"We  are  to  consider  next,  the  principle  which  guided 
the  choice  of  Moses,  and  the  e7id  which  he  had  in  view 
in  making  his  decision.  "  By  faith,  he  refused  to  be 
called  the  son  of  Pharaoh's  daughter ;"  by  faith  he  de- 
clined to  participate  in  "  the  pleasure  of  sin ;"  by  faith 
he  rejected  the  offer  of  Egypt's  treasure,  and  by  faith  he 
preferred  all  the  affliction  and  reproach  which  he  should 
suffer  on  account  of  his  attachment  to  the  people  of  God, 
and  his  belief  in  a  coming  Kedeemer ;  "  for  he  had  re- 


THE    AVISE    DECISION.  79 

spect  unto  the  recompense  of  the  reward."  This  lan- 
guage, taken  in  connection  with  what  has  already  been 
said,  toucliing  the  motive  of  Moses  in  declining  the 
pleasures  of  sin,  exonerates  him  from  all  imputation  of 
selfishness,  in  seeking  "  the  recompense  of  the  reward." 
It  was  a  holy  reward  which  Moses  had  respect  to,  a  re- 
ward which  was  to  be  found  in  the  way  of  obedience, 
and  not  simply  happiness^  irrespective  of  the  means  by 
which  it  might  be  attained.  Hence  it  was  a  just,  a  re- 
ligious motive.  As,  indeed,  it  is  recorded  of  the  Author  of 
salvation  Himself:  "  For  the  joy  that  was  set  before  him, 
he  endured  the  cross,  despising  the  shame."  It  was  a 
reward  which  Jesus  had  in  view  when  he  gave  his  back 
to  the  smiters,  and  when  he  poured  out  his  soul  unto 
death ;  but  it  was  a  reward  which  involved  in  the  high- 
est degree  the  glory  of  the  Father  who  had  sent  him. 
Tims  Moses  looked  forward  to  a  future  recompense,  but 
it  was  not  the  recompense  solely  which  stimulated  his 
obedience.  The  recompense  was  a  gracious  bestowment 
which  he  certainly  desired,  but  which  he  desired  in  no 
other  way  than  as  it  should  be  connected  with  God's 
glory,  and  his  own  holiness. 

But  we  were  considering  the  principle  which  ani- 
mated him.  It  was  faith  we  are  told.  By  faith  he  con- 
templated a  joy  which  would  be  full  and  abiding  long 
after  the  pleasures  of  sin  had  vanished,  and  left  nothing 
behind  them  but  the  inevitable  sting;  by  faith  he 
grasped  the  riches  which  would  endure,  and  be  satisfying 
long  after  the  treasures  in  Egypt  had  turned  into  dust 
and  been  forgotten;  by  faith  he  looked  beyond  the 
present  affliction  of  the  people  among  whom  he  had 
cast  his  lot, — ^beyond  their  servitude,  their  privations,  and 
their  disgrace.  ''He  endured,  as  seeing  Him  who  is 
invisible ;"  and  so  strong  was  he  in  the  strength  of  this 
divine  principle,  that  he  boldly  "  forsook  Egypt,  not 


80  THE   NEW   YORK   PULPIT. 

fearing  the  wrath  of  the  King."  It  was  a  small  matter 
to  him  what  he  should  suffer  from  men,  or  what  of  per- 
sonal convenience  and  pleasure  he  should  forego,  for 
these  things  were  only  for  a  season ;  "  the  recompense 
of  the  reward,"  which  was  laid  up  for  him  in  heaven, 
would  be  imperishable  and  fadeless  forever. 

Now  this  decision  of  Moses,  as  it  seems  to  me,  was 
eminently  wise  /  and  I  appeal  to  every  one  of  you,  for 
the  correctness  of  this  conclusion.  I  have  no  question 
whatever,  as  to  the  verdict  of  your  enlightened  and  sober 
judgments.  Moses  in  rejecting  the  pleasures  of  sin, 
and  the  offered  treasures  of  Egypt,  in  view  of  the  future 
reward  acted  wisely,  and  as  every  sane  man  should  act  in 
a  similar  case.  Tliere  was  no  fanaticism  in  this  decision, 
no  mere  impulse  of  feeling.  It  was  the  mature,  thought- 
ful act  of  an  intelligent  mind.  See  how  the  case  stands 
now.  Thousands  of  years  have  fled,  since  the  body  of 
Moses  was  laid  in  its  unknown  sepulchre,  in  the  valley 
of  Moab.  For  all  these  centuries  has  he  been  enjoying 
the  fruition  of  that  faith  which  led  him  "rather  to  suffer 
affliction  with  the  people  of  God,"  and  to  bear  "  the  re- 
proach of  Christ,"  than  to  possess  "the  treasures  in 
Egypt,"  or  "to  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  sin  for  a  season." 
Where  is  Moses  to-day  ?  And  where  are  the  Pharaohs  ? 
And  where  the  pride  and  pomp  of  ancient  Egypt  ?  And 
where  the  giddy  throng  that  mingled  in  the  dance,  or 
that  quaffed  the  wine-cups  in  their  banquet-halls  ?  And 
where  the  treasures  which  built  the  pyi-amids,  and  reared 
proud  monuments  to  the  names  of  Kings  ?  Alas !  these 
all  were  only  "for  a  season,"  and  have  long  since  perished. 
But  "  the  recompense  of  the  reward  "  which  the  man  of 
God  discerned  by  faith,  and  upon  which  he  has  already 
entered,  shall  be  forever  and  ever.  He  has  received  "a 
Kingdom  which  cannot  be  moved."  Tell  me,  was  not 
Moses  wise  in  his  decision,  notwithstanding  all  the  tern- 


THE    WISE   DECISION.  81 

poral  losses,  and  the  obloquy  to  which  that  decision 
subjected  him? 

And  now  I  bring  the  subject  home  to  you,  my  hear- 
ers,— to  you,  young  men,  who,  as  1  have  said,  may  be 
this  day  on  the  point  of  a  decision  which  will  determine 
the  whole  of  your  future  career,  and  be  final  as  to  your 
eternal  happiness  or  misery.  The  pleasures  of  sin  are 
in  the  one  scale  ;  but  remember,  they  are  the  pleasures 
of  sin,  and  they  are  onljfor  a  season.  In  a  short  time 
— a  very  few  years  at  most, — these  pleasures  will  have 
lost  their  sweetness,  and  the  dregs  of  the  cup  which  you 
must  drink,  if  you  now  prefer  sinful  pleasures,  will  be  full 
of  bitterness.  In  the  end,  that  which  seems  to  you  now  to 
be  only  joy,  will  "  bite  like  a  serpent,  and  sting  like  an 
adder."  In  the  other  scale  is  the  service  of  Christ — an 
intelligent,  rational  devotion  to  the  cause  of  truth  and 
righteousness.  In  this  service  you  may  have  to  suffer 
something  of  affliction.  I  will  not  disguise  the  truth. 
Tlie  people  of  God  have  oftentimes  to  pass  through 
severe  trials,  before  they  are  "  made  meet  to  be  partak- 
ers of  the  inheritance  of  the  saints  in  light."  In  this 
service  you  may  have  to  endure  reproach  for  the  name 
of  Jesus.  "  Yea,  all  that  will  live  godly  in  Christ  Jesus 
shall  suffer  persecution."  In  one  shape  or  another, 
"  the  trial  of  your  faith  "  must  be  experienced.  But,  be 
it  so ;  and  even  granting  that  your  entire  earthly  pil- 
grimage shall  be  one  unbroken  series  of  afflictions; 
admitting  that  it  may  be  best,  in  the  wisdom  of  God, 
that  poverty,  and  suffering,  and  reproach  shall  fill  up 
the  measure  of  your  days  upon  earth, — admitting  all 
this,  I  ask,  which  is  the  wise  decision,  the  service  of 
God  here,  and  "  the  recompense  of  the  reward "  here- 
after, or  "  the  pleasures  of  sin  for  a  season,"  and,  in  the 
end,  "  the  wages  of  sin,"  wliich  "  is  death  ?"  What  I 
want,  at  this  time,  is  not  the  verdict,  simply,  of  your 


82  THE    NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

judgments,  for  that  I  have  already ;  but  what  I  w^ant  is 
the  decision  of  your  hearts^  and  your  determination,  in 
the  fear  of  God,  and  in  reliance  upon  his  promised  aid, 
to  seek,  at  once,  "  that  good  part,  which  shall  not  be 
taken  away  from  "  you.  "  Choose  you  this  day  whom 
ye  will  serve,"  and  let  your  decision,  I  pray  you,  be  like 
that  of  Moses;  choose  "rather  to  suffer  affliction  with 
the  people  of  God,"  if  it  must  needs  be  that  afflictions 
come,  "than  to  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  sin  for  a  season." 
"  For  a  season.!"  Contrast  these  words — the  meaning  of 
them — ^with  the  meaning  of  those  other  words  with 
which  my  text  closes :  "  the  recompense  of  the  reward." 
Here  is  an  example  in  point.  A  few  days  ago,*  two 
deaths  occurred  in  this  city  and  its  immediate  vicinity, 
within  six  hours  of  each  other.  The  one  was  the  death 
of  a  young  man,  aged  about  twenty-four  years,  of  whom 
it  is  said,  by  one  who  had  taken  pains  to  make  particu- 
lar inquiry,  that  "he  was  a  young  man  of  promise,  being 
an  excellent  anatomist,  a  skillful  linguist,  and  one  who 
might  have  risen  in  the  world  ;  but  habits  of  dissipation, 
disobedience  of  parents,  and  evil  company  wrought  his 
ruin."  He  was  a  young  man  who  preferred  "  the  plea- 
sures of  sin,"  and,  truly,  they  were  pleasures  w^hich 
lasted  only  "  for  a  season."  How  brief !  how  illusive ! 
how  fatal !  He  died  suddenly — ^he  died  upon  the  gal- 
lows, a  convicted  murderer,  with  the  blood  of  a  fellow- 
creature  upon  his  soul !  From  that  scene,  terminating  a 
life  of  sinful  pleasure,  pass  with  me  to  another  which 
transpired  a  few  hours  later.  Under  the  roof  of  an 
unpretending  dwelling  in  this  city,  a  circle  of  weeping 
friends  are  gathered  about  the  couch  of  an  aged  man 
w^ho  has  just  ceased  to  breathe. f  That  man,  while  yet 
young,  had  made  the  choice  of  Moses.     The  pleasures 

*  January  8,  1858.  f  Rev.  Dr.  Knox. 


THE    WISE   DECISION.  83 

of  sill  lie  renounced,  and  tlie  people  of  God,  in  good 
report  and  in  evil  report,  lie  determined  should  be  liis 
people.  For  nearly  half  a  centuiy  he  stood  upon  the 
walls  of  Zion,  in  this  city,  an  affectionate  counselor  of 
the  young,  and  a  messenger  to  all  of  the  good  tidings 
of  the  gospel.  For  nearly  half  a  century  he  walked  our 
streets,  an  example  of  purity  of  life,  and  of  unostenta- 
tious devotion  to  the  cause  of  the  Saviour,  whose  ser- 
vice he  chose  in  his  early  manhood.  When  that  man 
died,  every  friend  of  virtue  and  religion  in  this  com- 
munity felt  that  a  public  benefactor  had  ceased  from 
among  the  living ;  and  when  he  was  borne  to  his  burial, 
thousands  pressed  around  his  remains,  anxious  to  pay 
the  last  tribute  of  respect  and  affection  to  '^  the  memory 
of  the  just."  Both  these  men  are  now  dead  and  buried. 
But  is  this  all?  When  the  one  man  died  upon  the 
scaffold,  was  that  the  end  of  the  pleasure-seeker  ?  And 
when  the  other  man  died  in  his  chamber,  was  that  the 
end  of  the  venerable  servant  of  Christ?  Where  now 
are  the  spirits  of  these  departed  men  ?  Could  I  lift  the 
curtain  which  separates  the  present  from  the  future,  I 
would  show  you  where  they  are.  This  I  am  not  per- 
mitted to  do ;  but  I  can  tell  you  what  Cod  says  in  his 
holy  book.  "  All  murderers  shall  have  their  part  in  the 
lake  which  burneth  with  fire  and  brimstone,  which  is 
the  second  death."  "I^o  murderer  hath  eternal  life 
abiding  in  him."  "  These  shall  go  away  into  everlasting 
punishment."  And  again,  it  is  said,  "They  that  be 
wise  shall  shine  as  the  brightness  of  the  firmament,  and 
they  that  turn  many  to  righteousness,  as  the  stars  for 
ever  and  ever."  "The  righteous  hath  hope  in  his 
death."  "  Blessed  are  the  dead  which  die  in  the  Lord, 
from  henceforth ;  yea,  saith  the  Spirit,  that  they  may 
rest  from  their  labors ;  and  their  works  do  follow  them." 
"The  recompense  of  the  reward"  is  theirs  for  ever. 


84  THE   NEW   YORK   PULPIT. 

My  hearers,  will  you  decide  this  question  ?  "Will  you 
decide  it  now  ?  Whom  will  you  serve  ?  Life  and  death 
are  set  before  you.  Now  is  the  time  for  your  decision ; 
and  the  decision,  remember,  must  be  your  own.  God 
calls  upon  you  by  his  Spirit  to  make  your  choice.  He 
has  provided  for  you  all  needful  helps.     "If  thou  be 

WISE,  THOU  SHALT  BE  WISE  FOR  THYSELF;  BUT  IF  THOU 
SCORNEST,  THOU  ALONE  SHALT  BEAR  IT." 


YI. 
CHEIST   AT   THE   DOOE. 

BY  GEORGE  W.  BETHUNE,  D.D., 
Minister  of  the  Reformed  Butch  Chv/reh  on  the  Heights^  Brooklyn, 

Behold  I  stand  at  the  door  and  knock ;  if  any  man  hear  my  voice,  and 
open  the  door,  I  will  come  in  to  him,  and  sup  with  him,  and  he  with  me. 
—Rev.  iii.  20. 

When  we  read  the  gracious  words  of  the  Saviour  in 
the  Gospel,  we  might  well  think  that  divine  condescen- 
sion could  go  no  further.  There,  He  bids  us  come  to 
him,  to  pray  for  pardon  and  not  faint,  to  knock  at  the 
door  of  mercy,  to  strive  for  entrance  at  the  strait  gate, 
promising  us  certain  and  full  salvation,  if  we  thus,  with 
sincere  earnestness,  endeavor  after  eternal  life ;  and, 
surely,  they,  who  will  not  seek  him,  deserve  to  perish. 
But  here,  in  our  holy  text,  He  takes  the  very  means  to 
win  our  love  which  he  requires  of  us  to  win  his.  He 
comes  nigh  to  us,  stands  knocking  at  our  hearts,  calling 
upon  us  to  open  the  door  and  admit  him,  entreating 
leave  to  enter  that  he  may  have  fellowship  with  us,  and 
we  with  him.  The  last  vestige  of  excuse  is  taken 
away,  the  last  shadow  of  doubt  should  pass  from  om* 
minds.  We  need  no  longer  seek  tor  Him,  He  has  found 
us.  The  question  is  no  longer,  Will  He  hear  our  prayer? 
but.  Shall  we  hear  His  ?  Not,  Will  He  open  the  door 
of  heaven  to  us  ?  but,  Shall  we  keep  our  hearts  closed 
against  Him  ?  His  readiness  to  save  is  assured ;  it  is 
now  for  us  to  decide  whether  we  will  be  saved  or  not. 

85 


86  THE    NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

Our  text  occurs  in  tlie  epistle  to  the  Clmrcli  of  Laocli- 
cea,  wliicli  had  become  hikewann  and  self-righteous, 
though  richly  favoured  with  all  the  means  of  grace. 
They  knew  what  the  Gospel  offered  and  what  it  required; 
but  tliey  neither  entreated  divine  help,  nor  devoted 
themselves  to  the  divine  service.  The  same  course  is? 
therefore,  required  of  them  as  of  those  who  had  never 
professed  themselves  Christians ;  they  must  come  to 
Christ  for  spiritual  life,  "  be  zealous  and  repent." 
Hence,  and  conformably  with  other  Scriptures,  we  may 
safely  infer  that  the  words  before  ns  are  applicable  to  all 
who  hear  the  truth,  and  have  the  offer  of  salvation 
pressed  upon  them. 

The  order  of  thought  is  simple  : 

Firsts  Christ  without  and  the  door  shut. 

Secondly^  The  door  open  and  Christ  within. 

I.     Christ  without  and  the  door  shut. 

Yon  readily  understand  the  figure.  The  blessed  Sa- 
viour represents  himself  as  seeking  our  love,  trust,  and 
communion.  He  comes,  as  it  were,  to  the  door  of  the 
sinner's  heart,  but  finds  it  closed.  He  knocks  and  calls 
out,  that  we  may  know  He  is  waiting  for  admission,  and 
withdraw  the  barrier  which  j)i'events  his  entrance: 
"  Behold  I  stand  at  the  door  and  knock ;  if  any  man 
liear  my  voice  and  open  the  door,  I  will  come  in  to  him." 
Thus  we  liave  discovered  to  ns :  The  affectionate  zeal 
of  Christ  for  our  salvation ;  and.  The  reason  why  any  of 
ns  are  not  saved. 

1.  The  affectionate  zeal  of  Christ  for  our  salvation. 
He  comes  to  ns.  He  saw  us  lost  in  guilt  and  sin,  neither 
able  to  expiate  our  offences  against  God,  nor  willing  to 
repent  of  them ;  and  he  came  from  heaven  to  earth, 
assuming  our  nature,  that  he  might  m#ke  an  infinitely 
meritorious  atonement,  and,  having  opened  for  ns  the 


CHRIST    AT   THE   DOOE.  87 

way  of  reconciliation,  oifer  ns  tlie  gracious  help  of  Lis 
Holy  Spirit  for  our  return  to  God,  and  eternal  life. 
Yes !  He  came  so  nigli  to  us  lost  sinners,  that  He  be- 
came like  to  us  in  all  things  except  sin ;  nay,  as  the 
Elder  Brother,  the  kinsman  Eedeemer  of  his  people.  He 
undertook  their  full  deliverance  from  all  the  consequences 
of  their  rebellion,  bearing  their  griefs,  carrying  their 
sorrows,  grappling  with  their  temptations,  working  out 
their  righteousness  by  his  own  perfect  voluntary  obedi- 
ence, and  dying — on  the  shameful,  bitter,  then  accursed 
cross — their  death  to  the  broken  law,  that  they  might 
receive  eternal  life.  Even  now,  upon  the  throne  of  his 
glory,  He  has  not  laid  aside  his  sympathy,  for  he  has 
carried  up  with  him  to  the  right  hand  of  the  Father, 
the  body  which  felt  our  pains,  the  heart  which  bled  in 
our  sorrows,  and  the  mind  that  endured  our  trials. 
Blessed  be  His  name  !  He  is  not  the  less  man,  though 
"  crowned  with  glory  and  honor,"  than  when  he  resisted 
our  Tempter  in  the  wilderness,  sat  way-worn  and  weary 
at  the  gate  of  Sychar,  wept  at  the  tomb  of  his  friend, 
staggered  under  his  cross  amidst  the  hootings  of  the  mul- 
titude, or  gave  up  the  ghost  in  a  cry  of  agony.  Every 
pulsation  of  his  human  breast  reminds  Him  of  his  brethren 
below  ;  He  pleads  for  them  as  he  shows  the  scars  of  his 
crucifixion ;  He  exerts  his  almighty  power  in  ordering 
all  providence  for  their  good,  and  in  embellishing  the 
mansions  of  heaven  for  their  eternal  home. 

This  nearness  to  us  is  continued  in  his  gospel.  By  his 
Holy  Scriptures,  and  various  appointed  means  of  instruc- 
tion out  of  the  Scrij)tures,  He  makes  known  the  way  of 
life  which  he  has  opened,  invites  all  who  hear  to  partake 
of  his  grace,  reiterates  his  merciful  warnings  against  eter- 
nal death,  and  assurances  of  eternal  bliss  for  all  who 
believe.  He  has  come  so  nigh  to  us,  my  friends,  that 
none  of  us  can  be  ignorant  of  our  danger,  or  the  mode 


88  THE    NEW   YOEK   PULPIT. 

of  escape.  His  inspired  Word  lies  on  our  tables ;  his 
ministers  proclaim  the  truth  as  we  sit  in  the  house  of 
God ;  his  sacraments  exhibit  it  in  their  expressive  forms ; 
faithful  Christians  testify  it  by  their  lives  and  conversa- 
tion ;  the  avowed  repentance  of  the  once  ungodly  gives 
proof  of  its  active  power.  All  these  declare  his  com- 
passion for  us,  and  his  right,  his  readiness,  his  desire  to 
save  every  soul  that  will  accept  of  his  salvation.  How 
may  we  doubt  his  compassion,  after  all  he  has  done  and 
suffered  for  us  ?  or  his  right  to  save,  since  the  Father 
has  exalted  him  as  a  Prince  and  a  Saviour  ?  or  his  readi- 
ness and  desire  to  save  us,  when  we  read  his  many 
"  exceeding  great  and  precious  promises  ?" 

Thus  does  Christ  come  and  stand  before  our  hearts ; 
and  we  should  hasten  out  to  entreat  that  he  would  come 
in  as  their  rightful  Lord  and  most  welcome  guest.  But 
his  affectionate  zeal  is  not  satisfied  without  farther 
demonstrations.  "  Behold,  saith  He,  I  stand  at  the  door 
and  knocks  This  is  a  strong  figure,  showing  a  closer 
application  of  the  gospel  to  our  souls  by  the  Holy 
Spirit. 

Just  before  our  divine  Lord  finished  his  work  on 
earth,  he  told  his  disciples:  "It  is  expedient  for  you 
that  I  go  away ;  for  if  I  go  not  away,  the  Comforter 
[whom  in  another  place  he  declares  to  be  the  Holy 
Ghost]  will  not  come  unto  you  ;  but  if  I  depart,  I  will 
send  him  unto  you.  And  when  he  is  come,  he  will 
reprove  the  world  of  sin,  and  of  righteousness,  and  of 
judgment."  He  fulfilled  his  promise,  after  his  ascen- 
sion, by  sending  down  the  Spirit  at  the  Pentecost ;  and, 
ever  since,  that  Holy  Agent  has  been  present  on  earth, 
in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  to  breathe  an  energy  through 
the  means  of  grace  without  which  they,  even  the  Scrip- 
tures themselves,  are  utterly  ineffectual.  Hence  every 
influence  from  the  truth  upon  our  souls  is  ascribed  to 


CHRIST   AT   THE   DOOR.  89 

the  Holy  Ghost ;  and,  whenever  we  are  conscious  of 
such  influence,  we  may  know  that  the  Spirit  is  exerting 
his  divine  power  upon  us.  He  it  is  that  enlightens  our 
minds,  stirs  up  our  consciences,  and  pierces  our  sensi- 
bilities ;  so  that  unfaithful  Christians  are  said  to  "  grieve" 
and  "  wound,"  while  the  obstinately  impenitent  "  resist" 
and  "  quench"  the  Holy  Spirit.  Here,  in  the  text,  our 
blessed  Saviour  declares  that  he  makes  a  direct  appli- 
cation, not  merely  to  our  senses  by  external  means,  but 
to  our  inner  heart  by  his  Holy  Spirit. 

He  stands  before  us,  it  is  true,  in  every  page  of  his 
gospels,  every  evangelical  sermon,  every  Christian  ad- 
vice, every  sacrament,  every  striking  providence,  or 
whatever  ought  to  make  us  consider  his  claims ;  yet, 
through  our  stupid  occupation  with  the  world,  we  may 
not  perceive  his  nearness :  but  there  are  times  when  the 
sinner  is  compelled  to  feel  that  the  truth  concerns  him, 
and  his  heart  is  stirred  by  it,  as  a  knock  at  the  door 
sounds  through  a  house.  Even  then  he  may  be  so  taken 
up  with  other  things  as  to  pay  but  little  attention,  yet 
he  hears  the  knocking,  and  knows  that  Jesus  is  at  the 
door ;  or  the  knocking  is  re23eated  louder  and  louder, 
until  he  trembles  with  awe,  and,  if  he  do  not  yield, 
must  brace  himself  up  with  an  insane  hardihood  to  resist 
the  summons. 

Who  among  us,  my  hearers,  has  not  had  some  such 
occasions,  and,  notwithstanding  an  assumed  indifference, 
perhaps  cultivated  skepticism,  been  convinced,  by  a  tes- 
timony in  his  conscience  far  stronger  than  any  argu- 
ments for  the  truth  of  Christianity  which  its  professed 
advocates  can  use,  that  God  does  speak  by  the  Scrip- 
tures, and  that  the  gospel  is  the  voice  of  Christ  calling 
upon  him  to  repent  and  be  saved  ?  Tliese  convictions 
may  have  been  wrought  apparently  by  various  means, 
with  some  may  be  more  frequent  or  deeper  than  with 


90  THE   NEW   YORK   PULPIT. 

others,  but  tliej  certainly  are  the  effects  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  directly  applying  the  truth  to  onr  hearts,  for  our 
souls'  good,  if  we  will  so  receive  it ;  and  are  so  inany 
proofs  that  Christ  not  only  offers  his  salvation  to  all,  but 
has  singled  us  out  by  special,  personal,  peculiar  offers  of 
pardon  and  grace. 

2.  The  reason  why  any  of  us  are  not  saved  is,  then, 
obvious.  It  must  be  our  own  fault  in  not  yielding  to 
the  solicitations  of  divine  mercy.  Christ  is  mighty  to 
save ;  that  is  seen  in  His  perfect  and  accepted  atone- 
ment. He  is  willing  to  save  all  who  believe  in  his 
name ;  that  is  seen  in  the  offers  of  his  Gospel,  which  are 
free  to  all.  He  is  ready  to  save  each  of  us,  every  one 
of  us ;  that  is  seen  in  his  knocking  by  his  Spirit  at  the 
door  of  our  hearts.  'No  one  can  say,  "  I  am  too  great  a 
sinner  to  be  saved,"  for  that  were  to  deny  the  infinite 
merit  of  the  atonement  which  God  himself  has  provided 
and  declared  sufficient;  nor,  "I  may  go  to  Christ  and 
he  may  not  receive  me,"  for  Christ  waits  not  until  we  go 
to  him,  but  comes  to  us ;  nor,  ''  I  must  w^ait  until  the 
Holy  Spirit  draws  me  to  him,"  for  the  Spirit  is  already 
at  our  bosom's  door,  calling  u^Don  us  to  admit  him. 
The  question  now  is  not.  Will  the  Saviour  accept 
us?  but.  Shall  we  reject  him?  I  say  reject  him,  for 
since  He  has  offered  himself  to  us,  we  reject  him, 
if  we  do  not  acknowledge  him  and  trust  him  as  our 
Saviour.  Our  hearts  had  long  been  closed  against  him, 
and  we  may  not  have  known,  or  did  not  consider,  that 
He  •  was  standing  without ;  but  his  knocking  has  re- 
minded us  of  our  guilty  indifference,  and  declares 
his  desire  to  enter.  Why,  then,  is  He  not  already 
within  our  hearts? — Because  w^e  will  not  open  the 
door,  but  keep  it  shut.  He  calls  to  us,  and  we  know 
his  divine  voice ;  but  we  will  not  obey.  He  tries  the 
latch — ^pressing  with   merciful  force   against  the  bar- 


CHRIST    AT    THE    DOOK.  91 

rier,  to  see  if  we  are  willing  that  He  should  come  in ; 
but  our  love  of  the  world  and  of  sin  is  like  a  bolt  barring 
the  door  fast,  and  we  put  not  forth  our  hand  to  draw  it 
back — nay,  we  press  against  the  barrier  on  our  side,  and 
so  resist  his  gracious  will.  If  we  were  but  willing  to 
give  up  sin,  if  we  but  ceased  striving  against  him.  He 
would  at  once  enter  and  shed  abroad  his  love  through 
our  hearts.  He  could,  and  (blessed  be  His  name!) 
sometimes  does,  break  down  the  sinner's  opposition  ;  for 
his  power  when  He  puts  it  forth  is  irresistible  ;  but  we 
are  nowhere  justified  in  waiting  for  such  compulsion. 
He  commands  us  to  open  the  door,  to  put  forth  the 
hand  of  faith  and  unbar  the  bolt,  to  repent  and  welcome 
him.  Do  you  cavil  and  say,  "  I  must  wait  for  His 
grace  before  I  can  do  this  ?"  Oh,  foolish  soul  !  Why 
thus  wrest  the  Scripture  to  your  own  destruction  ?  His 
grace  is  waiting  for  you.  Tlie  Holy  Spirit  is  urging 
himself  upon  you  ;  and,  certainly  as  He  is  knocking  at 
your  hearts,  so  certainly,  if  you  will  yield  to  his  striv- 
ing, all  needed  grace  shall  be  yours. 

Consider,  then,  I  pray  you,  my  fellow-sinner,  how 
inexcusable  is  your  present  state  !  You  alone  stand  in 
the  way  of  your  own  salvation.  After  all  that  Christ 
has  done  for  you ;  after  all  his  kind  warnings  and 
kinder  promises  ;  after  all  his  knockings,  and  calls,  and 
strivings  with  your  conscience,  you  will  not  open  your 
heart  to  God,  who  comes  to  you,  not  as  a  Judge  and 
Avenger,  but  as  a  Saviour  and  Friend.  You  defy  his 
terrors,  though  they  burn  fiercely  to  the  lowest  hell ; 
but  you  do  worse,  you  despise  his  mercy,  you  treat  his 
love  with  contempt,  you  resist  his  official  divine  mes- 
senger, the  Holy  Ghost.  The  Spirit  may  have  knocked 
often ;  the  Saviour  have  stood  without  long ;  you  have 
kept  God  waiting  at  the  door  of  your  heart ;  some  worldly 
pleasure,  some  petty  business,  perhaps  only  a  sluggish 


ya  THE   NEW   TOEK    PULPIT. 

indisposition  to  an  effort  at  repentance,  has  been  your 
motive  to  bid  the  divine  mercy,  whose  price  was  the 
blood  of  Christ  and  whose  advocate  is  the  Holy  Ghost, 
stay  for  your  convenient  leisure.  Oh!  cease  this  un- 
grateful, impious  hesitation  !  The  Saviour  has  waited 
long,  but  he  will  not  wait  for  ever.  In  another  moment, 
that  knocking  may  cease,  that  pleading  voice  be  heard 
no  more,  and  the  disappointed  Herald  of  heavenly  com- 
passion pass  on,  never  to  return.  Then  you  will  be  again 
at  ease ;  the  godless  heart  within  you  abandon  all  its 
chambers  to  unchecked  sin ;  the  cross  of  Christ  seem  to 
you  as  a  superstitious  fable,  and  the  story  of  redeeming 
love  be  "  as  tedious  as  an  oft-told  tale ;"  but  it  will  be  the 
ease  of  a  soul  abandoned  by  the  Saviour  to  its  folly,  the 
reckless  delirium  that  precedes  the  eternal  death  of  an 
immortal  suicide.  Think  of  the  awful  anguish  in  which 
you  will  knock  at  the  door  of  heaven,  when  the  Yoice 
which  you  would  not  hear  as  it  pleaded  with  you, 
answers,  "  Depart  from  me,  I  never  knew  you  !"  and  the 
almighty  hand,  that  knocked  at  your  heart  in  vain, 
thrusts  you  away  to  everlasting  despair.  Yet  it  is  not 
too  late  ;  at  least,  I  trust  it  is  not.  Fling  open  the  door, 
call  to  the  entreating  Saviour,  beg  the  insulted  Spirit  to 
return,  and  it  may  be  that  He  will !  Unspeakable  is  the 
blessedness  of  those  to  whom  He  enters  in  mercy  ;  for 
consider — 

n.  The  door  open  and  Christ  within.  "If  any  man 
hear  my  voice  and  open  the  door,  I  will  come  in  to  him, 
and  gup  with  him,  and  he  with  me." 

Here  is  divine  indwelling,  divine  fellowship,  divine 
satisfaction. 

1.  Divine  indwelling :  "I  will  come  in  to  him."  Well 
might  we  repeat  the  note  of  admiration  that  begins  the 
text,  "  Behol(J. !" — O  beloved  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  we  won- 


CHRIST   AT   THE   DOOR.  93 

dered  at  thy  condescension,  when  thon  didst  assume 
our  nature,  for  "  Great  is  the  mystery  of  godliness,  God 
manifest  in  the  flesh !"  Yet  what  was  thy  birth,  as  the 
Son  of  Man,  compared  to  this  new  incarnation !  Then 
Thou  didst  enter  an  infirm,  but  sinless  body,  sanctified 
for  thee,  by  the  power  of  the  Highest,  and  dwell  with 
a  pure  soul  that  had  never  a  shadow  of  sin ;  now  Thou 
sendest  thy  Holy  Spirit  to  overshadow  a  rebel  sinner, 
and  interest  a  body  polluted  by  corrupt  lust,  to  dwell 
with  a  soul  all  defiled  by  sin ;  there  to  contend  against  evil 
passions,  carnal  desires,  wordly  longings,  and  unbeliev- 
ing pride.  It  is  even  so,  my  brethren.  Hear  the  Mas- 
ter's own  words :  "  I  will  come  in  to  him."  It  is  no 
extravagant  enthusiasm  to  say  with  an  apostle,  that  the 
believer  is  a  "  temple  of  the  Holy  Ghost,"  that  Christ  is 
"  formed  within  him,  the  hope  of  glory,"  that  "  he  lives ; 
yet  not  he,  but  Christ  liveth  in  him."  Yes,  "  the  high 
and  lofty  One  that  inhabiteth  eternity,"  claims  for  him- 
self two  dwelling-places ;  for  He  saith,  "  I  dwell  in  the 
high  and  holy  place,  with  him  also  that  is  of  a  contrite 
and  humble  spirit." 

It  is  the  method  which  the  sanctifying  Saviour  takes 
to  prepare  the  converted  sinner  here,  for  the  full  fruition 
of  God  in  glory.  As  a  divinity  within  a  shrine.  He  sheds 
abroad  his  glorious  light  through  the  soul,  dissipating  its 
doubts,  healing  its  errors,  and  confirming  its  hopes.  As 
Kfe  within  an  organized  frame,  it  prompts  to  holy  action, 
and  gives  strength  for  godly  purposes.  As  a  germ 
within  a  womb,  it  grows  from  weakness  to  a  mature 
birth  amidst  the  sons  of  God  above.  Christ  by  hie. 
Spirit  dwells  within  the  believer,  no  longer  afar  off,  not 
to  be  sought  after  painfully  and  anxiously,  but  beating 
in  the  love  of  his  heart,  speaking  with  his  lips,  seeing 
with  his  eyes,  hearing  with  his  ears,  thinking  with  his 
thoughts,  working  with  his  hands,  and  walking  with  his 


94:  THE   NEW    YORK    TULPIT. 

feet  in  the  narrow  way  that  leadeth  unto  life.  Not  that 
this  enlightening,  strengthening,  sanctifying  influence  is 
at  once  perfectly  transcendent  over  the  corruption;  but 
the  purifying  and  restoring  process  is  at  once  begun,  and 
c>ertainly  progressive  to  a  complete  consummation. 
Here  is  our  comfort  and  trust  when  struggling  with  sin, 
and  doubt,  and  temptation.  The  grace  is  ours  if  we 
will  exert  it ;  for  when  we  work  out  our  salvation  with 
fear  and  trembling,  God  is  working  in  us  both  to  will 
and  to  do  of  his  good  pleasure.  It  is  our  calling,  per- 
sonally to  strive  against  our  corruption,  and  emulate 
a  perfect  holiness ;  yet  without  Christ  we  can  do  noth- 
ing, but  can  do  all  things  through  Christ  strengthening 
us.  We  must  open  the  door  for  Him  to  enter  our  hearts, 
and,  after  he  has  entered,  if  we  cherish  his  loving  pres- 
ence, he  will  dwell  with  us  as  the  earnest  of  our  eternal 
life.  Oh,  how  holy  should  the  Christian  be  in  whose 
heart  Christ  lives,  and  whose  body  is  a  temple  of  the 
Holy  Ghost! 

There  is  divine  fellowship.  Tlie  Saviour  comes  in,  but 
with  what  purpose — as  an  enemy,  or  as  a  friend  ?  We 
deserved  his  wrath,  and  well  may  we  tremble  as  He  who 
is  oar  Judge  comes  to  search  our  inmost  thoughts. 
But  He  puts  all  this  anxiety  to  rest :  "  I  will  come  in, 
and  sup  with  him  and  he  with  me."  He  breaks  the  bread, 
and  thus  makes  with  us  a  covenant  of  love,  which  he 
will  surely  keep,  and  it  would  be  a  breach  of  most  sa- 
cred hospitality  in  us  to  violate.  He  sits  down  with  us 
as  friend  with  friend,  as  brother  with  brother,  at  a  sacra- 
ment of  a  familiar  table.  He  talks  with  us,  and  invites 
us  to  talk  with  Him.  We  tell  Him  of  our  sorrows  and 
our  joys,  our  perplexities  and  our  hopes,  our  difficulties 
and  our  desires ;  "  He  takes  of  the  things  of  the  Father  and 
shows  them  unto  us,"  until  the  chamber  of  connnunion 
glows  within  us,  filled  with  light,  and  peace,   and  "^oy. 


CHRIST    AT   THE   DOOR.  95 

Thus  the  Beloved  One  inliabits  the  believer's  heart  until 
He  receives  the  believer  up  to  dwell  in  Him  forever. 

2.  There  are  divine  satisfactions.  "  Ah !  blessed  Mas- 
ter," might  the  penitent  ask,  "  thou  sajest  that  thou  wilt 
sup  with  me,  but  where  shall  I  find  a  feast  for  such  a 
guest  ?"  "  Cumber  not  thyself  about  thy  serving,"  is 
the  affectionate  reply,  "  thou  shalt  sup  with  me."  The 
Master  brings  his  own  provision — the  bread  of  his 
holy  truth,  the  wine  of  his  holy  joy.  He  spreads  them 
upon  the  board,  he  extends  them  to  his  grateful  host. 
"  Eat,  O  friend,"  He  exclaims ;  "  drink  abundantly." 
The  bread  will  give  thee  strength ;  the  wine  will  cheer 
thy  heart.  That  divine  word  was  His  meat  when  a  pilgrim 
and  a  lab©*e^M[ipon  earth  ;  the  anticipations  of  that  joy 
animated  Him  to  endure  the  cross,  and  despise  the 
shame.  Now  He  comes  to  sympathize  with  the  weak 
Christian,  whose  trembling  feet  are  endeavoring  to  fol- 
low the  path  his  Master's  footsteps  mark  as  the  way  of 
life;  and  he  shares  with  his  disciples  his  own  com- 
forts, for,  "  having  been  tempted  himself,  he  well  knows 
how  to  succor  them  that  are  tempted."  And  thus  the 
Saviour  sups  with  the  penitent,  and  the  penitent  with  the 
Saviour.  Daily  is  the  bread  renewed,  daily  is  the  water 
of  life  turned  into  cheering  w^ine  ;  until  the  believer  at- 
tains whither  "the  Forerunner  hath  for  us  entered," 
where  "  they  hunger  no  more,  neither  thirst  any  more 
forever,"  because  the  feast  is  perpetual,  even  the  mar- 
riage supper  of  the  Lamb. 

And  who  is  he  to  whom  the  blessed  and  holy  Lord 
makes  this  astonishing  offer?  Where  is  the  soul  thus 
distinguished  by  the  divine  condescension  ?  My  fellow- 
sinner,  hearer  of  the  gospel,  at  whose  heart  the  Spirit 
has  been  knocking,  it  is  you  !  "  If  any  man  hear  my 
voice,  and  open  the  door,  I  will  come  in  to  him,  and  sup 
with  him,  and  he  with  me."     "  K  any  man  ;"  surely  that 


96  THE   NEW   YORK    PULPIT. 

means  yon,  me,  any  one  to  whom  the  gospel  is 
j)reached,  and  with  whom  the  Spirit  witnesses.  See, 
then,  the  choice  set  before  you !  Will  you  keep  the 
door  of  your  hearts  shut,  and  the  Saviour  out  ?  or  will 
you  open  them  and  receive  the  Saviour  in  as  your  God, 
your  friend,  your  divine  entertainer  ?  It  is  for  you  to 
decide.  Oh,  the  blessedness  of  that  penitent  into  whose 
open  heart  the  Lord  of  glory  enters  !  Oh,  the  unspeak- 
able misery  of  the  obstinate  sinner  who  rejects  Christ 
the  Saviour,  now,  to  be  rejected,  at  the  Great  Day,  by 
Christ  the  Judge !  Oh,  save  us,  thou  compassionate 
Jesus,  from  such  a  doom  !  Break,  break  the  door  away, 
and  till  us  with  Thy  power,  O  most  mighty  Holy 
Ghost! 


VII. 
UNAJSrSWEEED  PKAYEES. 

BY   GEORGE  POTTS,   D.D. 
Mindsior  of  Umversity  Place  Presbyterian  Clvurch. 

Ye  ask  and  receive  not,  because  ye  ask  amiss. — James  iv.  3. 

That  alone  deserves  the  name  of  Prayer,  which  com- 
plies with  certain  well-defined  conditions  specified  by 
him  who  has  established  the  laws  of  prayer.  It  is 
important  that  we  should  study  well  these  conditions  ; 
and  if  we  do,  we  shall  find  the  reasons  why  so  much 
that  is  called  prayer  seems  lost  in  the  air,  seems  not  to 
rise  above  the  ceiling,  seems  thrown  away.  That  is  to 
say,  we  shall  learn  why  men  "  ask  and  receive  not." 
There  is  something  "  amiss  "  in  the  petitioner  or  the 
petition.  It  is  all-important,  I  say,  to  understand  what 
this  is,  because  a  wrong  idea  of  prayer  and  its  answer 
will  beget  much  mischief:  leading  first  to  disappoint- 
ment, then  doubt,  then  unbelief  and.  formalism,  and 
then  to  the  entire  neglect  of  this  vital  duty,  this  grand 
privilege  of  the  creature  and  sinner — an  ajcypeal  to  God. 
I  propose,  then,  to  give  a  brief  account  of  some  of  the 
principal  reasons  why  what  is  called  prayer  is  so  often 
unanswered.  This  is  the  single  object  I  have  in  view, 
and  I  shall  aim  at  the  utmost  simplicity  and  brevity  in 
tracing  these  reasons.  "Without  further  preface,  let  me 
say— 

1.  Some  ask  amiss,  and  therefore  in  vain,  hecause  they 

6  ,  w 


THE    NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 


aj^eav  Ipfore  God  with  tinrepented  sin  ujpon  their  con- 
sciences.  Their  attitude  is  not  tlie  befittiiig  attitude  of  a 
suppliant  wlio  is  approaching  not  only  a  great  God,  but 
a  holy  God.  They  are  not  humbled.  There  is  a  lurk- 
ing love  of  sin  which  taints  their  prayers.  There  is 
some  habitual  sin  perhaps,  some  evil  temper  or  evil 
conduct  over  which  they  have  not  truly  bemoaned  as 
an  insult  to  the  good  God  to  whom  they  bring  their 
petitions.  And  although  the  things  asked  for  may  be 
altogether  proper  and  desirable,  and  though  they  may 
be  sought  with  a  certain  earnestness,  yet  so  long  as  sin, 
any  known  sin,  lies  unrepented  and  overlooked  in  the 
heart,  they  ask  "  amiss  "  in  the  most  radical  sense  of  the 
word.  It  is  not  inconsistent  with  the  doctrine  of  the 
efficacy  of  prayer,  that  when  the  life  is  full  of  vanity 
and  corruption,  and  marked  by  practices  denounced 
by  God,  the  occasionally  conscience-prompted  prayer 
should  be  disregarded.  The  first  cry  of  such  a  peti- 
tioner should  be  a  penitent  cry  for  forgiveness  ;  the  first 
duty,  the  duty  of  self-abasement. 

The  humility  which  God  has  assured  us  he  will  not 
despise,  is  not  the  humility  of  the  creature  merely,  but 
of  the  sinner.  What  else  but  this  is  implied  in  the 
necessity  of  asking  everything  in  the  name  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  ?  Why  in  his  name  ?  Because  at  no  time 
and  under  no  conceivable  circumstances  could  we  hope 
to  be  answered  for  our  own  sakes.  Tlie  very  prayers 
and  other  acts  of  devotion  of  the  best  believer  have  so 
much  of  the  taint  of  evil,  that  unless  he  be  looked  upon 
in  the  face  of  God^s  anointed^  they  will  not  be  tolerated. 
He  is  our  Atoner,  our  Advocate,  our  Intercessor — and 
all  our  hope  of  being  listened  to  at  all  lies  in  tlie  meri- 
torious efficiency  of  his  expiatory  sacrifice,  by  which 
he  bought  for  us  the  weddyig  garment  in  which  to 
appear  before  God.     All  this  implies  an  absolute  sense 


UNANSWERED   PEAYERS.  99 

of  imwortMness,  and  consequent  repentance  and  renun- 
ciation of  our  sin  before  we  can  bring  our  special 
requests  into  the  audience-chamber.  Yes  ;  the  first  cry 
of  every  prayer  ought  to  be  the  "  God  be  merciful  to 
me  a  sinner,"  which  made  the  publican's  prayer  suc- 
cessful. 

At  this  critical  period,  when  the  Lord  has  sent  his 
awakening  Spirit  so  simultaneously,  so  extensively,  and 
so  unostentatiously  upon  the  land,  it  is  of  primary  im- 
portance to  feel  that  the  first  call  of  "  this  Spirit  of 
grace  and  of  supplication"  is  a  call  to  mourn  over  our 
personal  and  social  offences,  by  looking  upon  him  whom 
they  have  pierced.  Let  the  family  of  the  house  of 
David,  and  of  the  house  of  Levi,  and  of  the  house  of 
Shimei,  "  mourn  apart,"  and  their  wives  apart  (Zech. 
xii.  10-14) :  for  their  declensions,  their  backslidings,  their 
lukewarmness,  their  unbelief  and  omissions,  have  been 
very  grievous  before  the  Lord.  How  numerous  and 
inexcusable  they  are,  every  one  can  see  who  looks  at  his 
own  case.  This  attitude  of  contrition,  an  attitude  far 
removed  from  the  self-content  and  self-complacency 
which  says  "  I  am  rich  and  have  need  of  nothing,"  is  the 
only  one  in  which  we  may  hope  to  meet  a  blessing  from 
the  God  of  Jacob,  which  shall  both  lift  up  his  people  to  a 
higher  level  of  holiness,  and  subdue  to  the  obedience  of 
Christ  the  careless  and  impenitent  who  swarm  in  our 
families,  our  congregations,  our  towns  and  cities. 

Go,  my  friends,  lie  in  the  dust,  put  on  sackcloth,  put 
away  iniquity — else  your  prayers,  personal  and  social, 
will  be  as  water  spilled.  For  thus  it  is  written,  and  let 
us  ponder  well  the  words — "The  Lord  is  nigh  unto 
them  that  are  of  a  broken  heart,  and  saveth  such  as  be 
of  a  contrite  spirit.  If  I  regard  iniquity  in  my  heart, 
the  Lord  will  not  hear  me.  The  sacrifices  of  God  are  a 
broken  spirit ;  a  broken  and  a  contrite  heart,  0  God, 


100  THE   NEW    YORK    rULPlT. 

thou  wilt  not  despise.  "  Humble  yourselves  in  tlie  siglit 
of  the  Lord  and  He  shall  lift  you  up."  While  on  the 
other  hand,  the  "  Lord,  Lord !"  of  the  wicked,  Tvhether 
inspired  by  fear  or  presumption,  will  be  an  abomina- 
tion :  "  Depart,  I  never  knew  you."  "  When  ye  spread 
forth  your  hands,  I  will  hide  mine  eyes  from  you ;  yea, 
when  ye  make  many  prayers,  I  will  not  hear.  Wash 
you,  make  you  clean  !" 

2.  Another  reason  why  so  much  that  is  called  prayer 
is  unanswered  is,  that  the  petitioner  does  not  really 
desire  the  thing  which  the  terms  of  the  jprayer  imjjly. 
The  words  are  not  an  index  of  the  true  promptings  of 
the  heart.  They  are  lacking  in  the  essential  element  of 
honesty.  Many  prayers,  eloquent  and  fervent  though 
they  seem,  are  only  words,  not  so  much  meant  for  the 
ear  of  God,  as  for  man's  ears :  hypocritical,  hollow 
make-believes,  offensive  to  him  who  looketh  not  on  the 
outward  appearance,  but  on  the  heart.  Is  it  inconsis- 
tent with  the  divine  pledge  that  God  will  hear  and 
answer  our  requests,  that  such  requests  as  he  sees  to  be 
insincere  should  be  not  only  not  granted,  but  set  down 
in  the  book  of  remembrance  as  crimes  1 

The  formalism  which  counts  its  prayers,  the  ostenta- 
tion which  puts  up  glowing  petitions  meant  for  human 
ears,  even  the  earnest  conscience-prompted  cries  ex- 
torted by  temporary  fears,  are  condemned  as  offences 
by  him  who  seetli  not  as  man  seeth.  Common  reason 
tells  us  this,  and  the  word  of  God  enjoins  us  to  w^eigh 
well  our  words,  that  they  may  not  go  beyond  the  reality. 
Let  us  look  deep  into  the  heart,  and  inquire  what  are  its 
real  impulses,  its  real  views  of  good,  its  uppermost 
objects  of  desire.  Tlie  supreme  desires  of  a  man,  whe- 
ther they  be  for  good  or  evil  objects,  are  his  real 
prayers.  It  is  not  enough  to  ask  in  words  for  humility 
or  any  other  Christian  grace  ;  it  is  not  enough  to  ask  in 


UNANSWERED   PRATERS.  101 

words  for  some  blessing  for  our  families,  the  cliiircli  or 
the  world.     They  must  be  sincere,  hearty  words. 

Are  you  able  to  say,  "  Give  ear  nnto  my  prayer,  that 
goeth  not  forth  out  of  feigned  lips."  Oh,  remember  that 
"the  Lord  is  nigh  unto  all  that  call  upon  him — in 
truth.  Ye  shall  seek  me  and  find  me,  when  ye  shall 
search  for  me  with  all  your  heart."  And  let  the  war- 
ning of  the  Saviour  strike  you  dumb  when  you  are 
about  to  ofifer  heartless  petitions  :  "  Ye  hypocrites,  well 
did  Esaias  prophesy  concerning  you — this  people  draw- 
eth  nigh  unto  me  with  their  mouth,  and  honoreth  me 
with  their  lips,  but  their  hearts  are  far  from  me." 

3.  Another  reason  why  much  that  passes  under  the 
name  of  prayer  is  unanswered :  It  is  the  promjpting  of 
a  selfish^  world-loving  state  of  mind^  which  puts  tem- 
jporal  hefore  spiritual  good  as  the  predominant  object  of 
desire.  I  speak  now,  not  so  much  of  the  expressed  as 
of  the  secret  desires  of  the  soul.  It  discovers  a  gross 
ignorance  of  relative  values  that  the  soul  should  ever 
place  that  which  is  fugitive  before  that  which  is  perma- 
nent. "  Seek  ye  first  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  his 
righteousness,  and  all  other  things  shall  be  added  unto 
you."  To  reverse  this  order  in  our  secret  prayers,  is  a 
proof  that  our  hearts  are  not  right  with  God,  and  we 
have  no  cause  of  complaint  if  such  selfish  petitions 
should  be  disregarded.  Suppose  a  case.  If  a  man  fix 
his  eyes  upon  some  success  in  life  as  the  chief  good  at 
the  moment,  or  if  the  absorbing  desire  of  his  heart  be 
to  escape  some  threatened  temporal  evil — sickness,  loss 
of  property,  and  such  like ;  although  he  may  not  alto- 
gether omit  from  his  prayers  the  weightier  matters  of 
the  soul,  its  growth  in  the  knowledge  and  grace  of 
Christ,  the  subjugation  of  worldly  passion,  the  forgive- 
ness of  sin,  greater  love  and  likeness  to  God  in  Christ,  and 
kindi-ed  graces — ^yet  by  making  that  last  which  should  be 


102  THE   NEW   YORK   PULPIT. 

first  and  tliat  first  wliicli  should  be  last,  he  virtually  de- 
clares himself  destitute  of  a  right  knowledge  of  himself, 
of  the  world,  and  of  God. 

Prayers  thus  reversed,  have  no  right,  we  repeat,  to 
expect  an  answer.  Such  were  the  prayers  referred  to  in 
the  text.  They  who  asked,  asked  amiss  in  this  respect,  that 
they  asked  for  something  to  expend  upon  their  pleasures. 
But  God  has  not  promised  to  answer  every  man's  prayer. 
It  is  the  prayer  of  the  ''righteous^^'^  by  which  is  meant  the 
renewed,  and  justified,  and  spiritual  man  that  availeth 
much.  This  reasonable  condition  of  the  promise  is 
made  plain  by  the  hearer  of  prayer  himself.  "  Because 
he  hath  set  his  love  upon  me,  therefore  will  I  deliver 
him ;  I  will  lift  him  up,  because  he  hath  known  my 
name ;  he  shall  call  upon  me  and  I  will  answer  him." 
This  is  an  epitome  of  the  word  of  God  on  this  point, 
and  it  turns  on  the  grand  principle,  that  prayer  being 
the  index  of  love  as  well  as  of  want,  the  supreme  love 
of  God  as  a  portion,  and  of  holiness  as  the  only  way  to 
the  enjoyment  of  that  portion,  will  force  all  tem- 
poral things  into  a  subordinate  place  among  our  peti- 
tions. 

It  is  not  meant  by  this  remark,  that  we  may  not 
make  wealth,  or  health,  or  influence,  or  any  other  tem- 
poral good  an  object  of  prayer.  If  it  be  lawful  to  aim 
at  these  things,  it  is  lawful  to  pray  for  them.  But  only 
on  two  conditions.  The  first  we  have  already  noted, 
namely,  that  they  should  be  counted  secondary  to  the 
blessings  of  the  spiritual  life.  The  second  is,  that  our 
motive  for  desiring  them  is  a  full  purpose  to  devote  them 
to  the  service  of  God.  And  be  sure  of  this,  my  Christian 
brethren,  that  should  you  ever  transgress  these  condi- 
tions in  a  fit  of  selfish  forge tfulness — you  shall  not  only 
not  have  your  desires  fulfilled,  but  God  will  chastise 
you  until  you  are  forced  to   abandon  your  idols  and 


UNANSWERED   PEAYERS.  103 

cry,  "  Whom  have  I  in  heaven  bnt  thee,  and  there  is 
none  upon  earth  I  desire  beside  thee  ?" 

4.  Consider  now  another  explanation  of  unanswered 
prayers.  They  are  not  mingled  with  thanhfulness. 
They  are  forgetful  of  past  and  present  benefits.  It  is 
right  that  an  ungrateful  beneficiary  who  is  always  ask- 
ing but  never  thanking  should  be  turned  away  till  he 
learns  to  have  more  decency.  Look  at  the  way  in  which 
many  receive  the  good  gifts  of  God's  providence ;  taking 
them  as  if  they  were  matters  of  course,  or  accidents  in 
which  God's  goodness  had  no  share,  or  the  results  of 
their  own  wisdom,  industry,  or  merit, — and  then  remark 
how  cheaply  they  are  rated  the  moment  some  afflictive 
trial  comes.  A  single  want  is  permitted  to  shut  from 
their  view  a  thousand  mercies.  Can  we  wonder  that 
the  selfish  cry  of  such  a  soul  should  be  disregarded? 
"Why,  what  right  has  any  one  to  complain  even  if 
nothing  of  earthly  joy  be  left  but  that  which  springs 
from  the  hope  of  heaven  ?  To  be  out  of  perdition  is  a 
grand  mercy  for  which  to  praise  God.  Everywhere 
throughout  Scripture  is  gratitude  represented  as  a  neces- 
sary quality  of  acceptable  prayer.  A  humble  heart  not 
only  brings  the  sin-offering  before  the  Lord,  but  the 
thanli-offering.  Hear  the  duties  of  the  devout  life 
summed  up  in  a  few  brief  sentences  :  "  Offer  unto  God 
thanksgiving,  and  pay  thy  vows  unto  the  Most  High ; 
call  upon  me  in  the  day  of  trouble  ;  I  will  deliver  thee  ; 
and  thou  shalt  glorify  me."  And  study  well  an  example 
full  of  these  important  lessons.  Paul  and  Silas,  covered 
with  bruises,  their  feet  in  the  stocks,  cast  into  the  dun- 
geon of  the  prison,  if  they  had  been  like  some  people  I 
have  seen,  would  have  forgotten  praise  in  the  agony  of 
prayer  for  deliverance.  But  it  seems  they  "  sang  praises 
to  God,  and  the  prisoners  heard  them."  Aye,  and  God 
heard   them.      You    know  what    followed.     I    might 


104  THE   NEW   YORK   PULPIT. 

quote  other  precepts  and  examples,  but  let  these 
suffice. 

If  you  would  have  your  prayers  regarded,  praise  God 
for  his  mercies ;  make  much  of  them,  and  do  not  suf- 
fer your  approaches  to  God  during  even  the  severest 
crises  of  tnal,  to  degenerate  into  reproachful,  discon- 
tented, and  impatient  murmurings  and  repinings. 

5.  The  absence  of  pity  for  the  suffering^  whether  the 
suffering  be  of  the  soul  or  the  body — is  another  explana- 
tion of  unanswered  prayer.  Scripture  is  explicit  on  this 
point.  Call  to  mind  a  few  instances.  "  Blessed  is  he 
that  considereth  the  poor,  the  Lord  will  deliver  him  in 
time  of  trouble."  Wliile,  on  the  other  hand,  "  whoso 
stoj)peth  his  ears  at  the  cry  of  the  poor,  he  himself  shall 
cry  and  shall  not  be  heard."  I  need  not  add,  that  the 
devouring  of  widow's  houses,  the  holding  back  the 
wages  of  the  hireling,  will  only  place  one's  prayers, 
though  they  be  as  numerous  as  a  Pharisee's,  among  the 
rankest  of  his  offences  against  God. 

They  who  are  themselves  dependent,  should  not 
despise  the  dependent.  The  giving  of  Christian  alms  is 
a  condition  of  acceptable  prayer,  not  because  attention 
to  the  poor  and  suffering  is  a  meritorious  prerequisite 
which  entitles  us  to  be  heard,  but  because  it  is  the  evi- 
dence of  a  renewed  soul,  that  has  become  one  of  the 
family  of  the  gentle,  compassionate  Jesus.  Such  will 
make  their  alms  a  sweet-smelling  savor  to  Christ,  and 
will  give  them  in  Christ's  name,  and  in  Christ's  spirit. 
Kot  the  doling  out  of  a  few  fragments  of  our  superfluity, 
nor  the  alms  of  ostentation,  nor  the  impatient  gifts  which 
are  often  flung  into  the  face  of  the  poor,  as  the  rewards  of 
their  importunity — none  of  these  mockeries  of  the  kindly, 
patient,  unwearied  sympathies  of  the  gospel  can  meet 
the  demands  of  the  Hearer  of  Prayer.  "  Freely  ye  have 
received,  freely  give" — this  is  the  broad  ground  upon 


UNANSWERED    PRAYKRS.  105 

wliich  Christ  claims  our  pity,  our  prayers,  and  our  gifts, 
for  tliose  wlio  are  suffering  under  spiritual,  or  corporeal 
destitution. 

Do  you,  my  friends,  consider  liow  a  practical  over- 
sight of  this  may  be  one  of  the  reasons  why  some  great 
blessing  you  have  asked  of  God  has  been  withheld  ? 

6.  Another  reason  why  we  sometimes  ask  and  receive 
not,  is,  that  we  do  not  ash  in  submission  to  the  sujpreme 
wisdom  and  goodness  of  God.  Now  there  are  many  erro- 
neous and  vague  ideas  as  to  the  breadth  of  the  divine 
promise  to  grant  "  i^A(5^^5(?e'Z^6?' "  we  ask  in  faith.  Does 
that  promise  mean  that  God  has  bound  himself  to  do 
precisely  that  thing  in  precisely  that  way  which  the  pe- 
titioner selects  as  the  best  ?  In  effect,  this  would  be  to 
convert  prayer  into  dictation.  It  would  be  for  God  to 
abdicate  the  throne,  and  give  the  government  of  all 
things  into  the  hands  of  the  creature.  The  promise  of 
the  Saviour  which  pledges  his  Heavenly  Father  to  do  all 
we  ask,  does  not  imply  consequences  so  dishonoring  to 
God,  and  so  injurious  to  ourselves. 

There  are  various  ways  in  which  unbelief  and  pre- 
sumption may  "  limit"  the  Holy  One  of  Israel.  Even 
in  respect  to  sj^iritual  good  we  are  required  to  observe 
the  obvious  conditions  which  God's  word  and  providence 
impose  upon  our  prayers.  For  example  :  would  it  com- 
port with  the  economy  of  God  in  respect  to  the  laws  of 
progress  which  he  has  imposed  on  the  Christian  life,  to 
consider  the  promise  as  pledging  God  to  grant  the  prayer 
of  one  who  should  ask  for  instantaneous  and  perfect 
sanctification  while  he  is  yet  in  the  body  ?  Or,  were  w^e 
to  ask  for  one  grace  at  the  expense  of  another,  would  we 
have  a  right  to  expect  it  ?  Or,  to  insist  upon  the  be- 
stowment  of  any  spiritual  good  for  ourselves,  or  others, 
in  precisely  that  form,  and  by  those  methods,  which  may 
seem  to  us  most  natural  and  propitious?     But  without 

5* 


106  THE   NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

pushing  the  privilege  of  prayer  to  such  extremes,  how 
broad  is  tlie  field  of  promise — how  large  the  spiritual 
blessings  we  may  seek  with  fearless  importunity,  sub- 
mitting to  God  the  questions  of  time,  place,  and  me- 
thods. 

And  in  respect  to  earthly  goocl^  while  there  are  many 
things  we  may  ask,  there  is  still  more  reason  for  the  ex- 
ercise of  submission  to  the  supreme  wisdom  and  good- 
ness of  our  Heavenly  Father.  When  our  Lord  says, 
"  Whatsoever  thing  ye  ask,  believing,  ye  shall  have" — 
are  we  to  include  results,  the  accomplishment  of  which 
would  require  an  absolute  miracle  1  As,  for  example, 
the  bestowment  of  hearing  and  speech  upon  a  deaf 
mute  ?  This  is  one  limitation  which  the  nature  of  things 
imposes  upon  our  petitions  for  earthly  benefits.  And 
even  in  those  cases  where  no  natural  impossibility  is 
implied,  our  petitions  for  any  earthly  good  will  be  cir- 
cumscribed by  our  well-known  incompetency  to  decide 
whether  any  particular  form  of  earthly  good  would,  un- 
der the  circumstances,  be  a  good  to  us.  The  possibility 
that  health,  wealth,  or  any  other  real  blessing,  might 
not  be  for  our  spiritual  benefit  and  growth  in  grace, 
nay,  might  be  positively  evil  and  injurious,  will  make 
the  humble  believer  qualify  every  prayer  of  this  sort, 
with  the  proviso — '^  if  it  seem  good  in  thy  sight."  It  is 
still  true,  "  no  good  thing  will  he  withhold,"  but  let  us 
leave  it  to  him  to  decide  what,  in  our  precise  condition, 
is  a  good  thing.  Carnal  fondnesses  are  to  be  carefully 
watched,  and  often  crucified.  Tens  of  thousands  have 
occasion  to  thank  God  that  he  has  disappointed  their 
prayers.  We  might  ''  be  cursed  with  every  granted 
wdsh,"  as  were  the  Israelites  when  they  impatiently  de- 
manded flesh  in  the  wilderness. 

7.  But  still  oftener  are  our  prayers  defeated  and  un- 
tmswered  by  the  cibsence  of  a  helieving  importunity. 


UXAN8WKRKD    PRAYERS.  107 

This  lays  bare  the  secret  of  God's  silence  in  many  cases. 
Faith  in  the  hearer  of  prayer — in  the  efficacy  of  prayer 
— in  the  assurance  that  he  will  grant  our  reasonable  de- 
sires— this  is  the  sine  qua  non  of  all  successful  petitions. 
And  yet  do  not  many  who  call  themselves  Christian  be- 
lievers, believe  many  other  things  more  than  they  be- 
lieve this  ?  Tliey  look  more  to  preaching,  and  reading, 
and  conversing,  than  to  praying.  They  resort  more  to 
man  than  to  God.  When  the  question  is  of  the  conver- 
sion, comfort,  or  edification  of  friends  and  children,  how 
many  rely  more  upon  other  influences  than  they  do  upon 
prayer  :  more  upon  man's  eloquence,  reasonings,  teach- 
ings, persuasions,  than  upon  God's.  Without  forgetting 
the  lawful  use,  or  disparaging  the  value  of  appropriate 
instrumentalities,  do  we  not  know  that  the  efficiency  of 
them  rests  supremely  and  sovereignly  with  God ?  "I 
will  be  sought  by  the  house  of  Israel."  "  Oh  thou 
that  hearest  prayer,  to  thee  must  all  flesh  come."  Paul 
plants,  Apollos  waters,  but  God  giveth  the  increase. 
We  must  carry  all  means  and  instruments  and  lay  them 
at  his  feet.  If  we  do  not,  if  any  skepticism  as  to  this 
class  of  truths  lurk  in  our  souls,  we  shall  find  our  wordy 
petitions  rejected  as  spurious. 

God  is  not  nigh,  God  does  not  hear,  does  not  care, 
will  not  give — thoughts  which  would  thus  express  them- 
selves were  they  framed  into  speech,  are  a  dishonor  to 
God,  and  will  paralyze  prayer,  or  make  it  a  mockery. 
It  will  become  a  cold,  hesitating,  half-hearted  form.  We 
will  not  ask  fervently,  not  even  honestly.  Faith,  even  as 
a  grain  of  mustard  seed,  is  a  living  and  germinating 
principle  in  the  heart ;  it  may  be  weak  or  strong,  great 
or  small — but  it  must  be  Faith.  Else  we  will  not  take 
God  at  his  word,  will  not  act  on  his  assurance  ;  but  will 
bring  into  his  presence  a  suspicious  countenance  which 
virtually  gives  him  the  lie.     Will  he  honor  such  peti- 


108  THE   NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

tioners?    Better  to  believe  too  much   than  too  little, 
when  God  has  commanded  us  to  try  him,  to  prove  him, 
to  open  wide  our  mouths,  to  ask,  seek,  and  knock.     K 
it  be  an  error  to  prescribe  how  and  when  God  shall 
give,  an  equally  great  error  is  not  to  believe  that  he  will 
give,  and  not  to  ask  for  the  great  things  he  has  said  he 
would  give.     How  often  do  we  ask,  and  omit  to  look  for 
an  answer  ?     What  is  it  to  us,  that  we  cannot  see  how 
the  answer  can  possibly  come  ?     God's  power  can  make 
a  way.     We  look  at  the  difficulties,  but  how  many  cases 
are  on  record,  in  which  man's  extremity  has  proved  to 
be  God's  opportunity.      Instances  in  which  he  has  hon- 
ored an  implicit,  trusting  faith,  abound  in  the  history  of 
every   godly  man,   and  put    to   shame   all   suspicious 
doubting  of  his  power.     When  these  instances  are  set 
before  us,  we  are  prone  to  call  them  marvellous,  and  re- 
gard them  as  exceptional — but  is  it  not  our  incredulity 
which  makes  them  seem  so  ?     There  is  nothing  marvel- 
lous in  God's  keeping  his  word,  or  in  his  having  em- 
ployed some  remote  and  unexpected  channel ;  for  are 
not  all  things  under  his  control  ?     But  w^e  are  often  so 
incredulous  as  to  the  possibility  of  an  answer,  we  deem 
it  so  improbable,  that  even  when  it   comes  it  causes 
doubt,  surprise,  alarm.     When  the  Lord  turned  the  ca]3- 
tivity  of  Zion,  although  the  captives  had  been  praying 
for  it,  they  felt  as  one  that  dreamed.     The  little  prayer- 
meeting  in  the  house  of  Mary,  while  engaged  in  praying 
for  the  imprisoned  Peter,  were  thrown  into  alarm  when 
he  himself  came  and  knocked  at  the  door.     They  did 
not  believe  it.    Had  we  more  faith  in  prayer,  we  whould 
have  more  perseverance  in  prayer.     Tlie  little  word 
'' wait^^  is  often  to  be  found  in  this  connection,  and  is 
full  of  meaning.     It  signifies  desire,  hope,  submission, 
and  patient  constancy.     It  is  the  appropriate  and  hon- 
orable attitude  of  the  believer. 


UNANSWERED    PRAYERS.  109 

8.  We  mention  as  last,  not  least,  of  the  reasons  wMcli 
explain  mnch  nnanswered  prayer,  that  the  guidance  cmd 
influence  of  the  Holy  Spirit  of  supplication  is  not  suffi- 
ciently sought  as  to  the  inanner  and  the  matter  of  out  re- 
guests.  He  alone  can  bestow  the  true  manner  of  prayer : 
the  fervent  desire,  the  reverent  dependence,' the  impor- 
tunate steadfastness,  the  habitual  apj^etency  which  hold 
the  soul  in  the  true  attitude  before  God.  But  it  is  con- 
cerning the  matter.,  or  objects  of  prayer,  that  I  now  de- 
sire to  speak,  regretting  that  the  limits  of  our  time  re- 
quire me  to  be  brief. 

Have  you  studied  what  the  word  of  God  teaches  on 
this  subject?  The  apostle,  who  is  our  best  human 
instructor  and  example,  forcibly  declares  that  the  Holy- 
Spirit  prays  in  us  and  for  us.  Tliese  are  his  words, 
"Likewise  the  Spirit  helpeth  our  infirmities:  for  we 
know  not  what  we  should  pray  for  as  we  ought :  but 
the  Spirit  maketh  intercession  for  us  with  groanings  that 
cannot  be  uttered.  And  he  that  searcheth  the  hearts 
knoweth  what  is  the  mind  of  the  Spirit,  because  he 
maketh  intercession  for  the  saints,  according  to  the  will 
of  God."  In  accordance  with  this  are  many  other  pas- 
sages, such  as  these :  "  Praying  with  all  prayer  and 
supplication  by  the  Spirit :  Praying  in  or  by  the  Holy 
Ghost :  because  ye  are  sons,  God  hath  sent  forth  the 
Spirit  of  his  Son  into  your  hearts,  crying  Abba, 
Father." ' 

These  are  parts  of  the  divine  science  of  prayer  that 
few  seem  to  have  studied  and  fewer  still  carried  into 
practice.  Here  the  Spirit  of  God  is  presented  as  a  Spirit 
of  supplication,  not  only  in  the  sense  of  his  being  the 
inspirer  of  the  sacred  manual  of  prayer,  tlie  word  of 
God — not  only  as  giving  the  right  disposition  of  depend- 
ence and  faith,  but  as  indicating  in  some  impressive 
manner  what  at  any  given  time  we  may  bring  before 


110  the:    NKW    YORK    PCLPIT. 

tlie  tlirone  as  a  special  petition,  and  with  an  urgency  so 
earnest  and  so  profound  as  to  be  inarticulate.  Tliey  are 
groanings  that  cannot  be  uttered.  And  what  child  of 
God,  especially  at  critical  periods  of  his  experience,  has 
not  felt  these  impulses  towards  some  object  of  desire, 
which  seemed  so  large,  so  necessary,  so  vital  as  to  bo 
too  big  for  words  ?  ISTow,  such  prayer  may  well  be  re- 
cognized as  the  inwrought  aspiration  of  the  Spirit  of 
God,  and  being  such,  we  may  all  the  more  confidently 
believe  that  that  longing  is  according  to  the  will  of  God, 
and  will  be  answered. 

"Why  not  then,  believing  hearers,  seek  more  earnestly 
for  this  divine  impulse  as  a  guide  to  the  matter  or  ob- 
ject of  prayer :  why  not  implore  these  intercessory  lead- 
ings of  the  Spirit  of  God  with  a  more  frequent  and  im- 
portunate desire  to  be  taught  by  him.  what  to  pray  for  as 
w^e  ought  ?  Guided  by  this  heavenly  Spirit  of  adoption, 
we  may  exercise  the  rights  of  intimacy  in  the  house  of 
our  Father,  and  passing  out  of  the  region  of  vague  gene- 
ralities enter  into  particulars.  With  the  written  teach- 
ings of  the  word  let  us  couple  this  secret  of  the  Lord, 
and  wrestling  like  Jacob,  say,  "  I  will  not  let  thee  go, 
imless  thou  bless  me." 

When  I  hear  of  an  otherwise  active,  consistent,  holy 
Christian  saying,  "  I  felt  much  impressed  to  pray  for 
this  or  that  person,  or  this  and  that  thing,"  I  recognize 
the  impulses  of  the  Spirit  of  God  teaching  him  what  to 
pray  for :  and  when  I  hear,  as  I  often  have,  that  that 
prayer  was  answered,  I  comprehend  the  meaning  of 
such  scriptures  as  these  :  "  Lord,  thou  wilt  prepare  their 
heart ;  thou  wilt  cause  thine  ear  to  hear.  Quicken  us 
and  we  wdll  call  upon  thy  name." 

My  dear  friends,  if  ye  know  these  great  principles 
belonging  to  the  grandest  of  all  duties  and  privileges — 
intimacy  with  God,  reconciled  and  fatherly  through  our 


UNANSWERED    PRAYERS.  Ill 

Lord  Jesus  Christ — liappy  are  ye  if  ye  put  them  to  the 
full  stretch  of  their  power.  All  things,  all  revelations 
made  to  faith,  all  ministrations,  all  providences,  are  in 
order  to  prayer.  Prayer  is  the  climax  of  all  other 
duties,  because  it  gives  God  the  dominion,  and  subjects 
everything  to  him. 

If  these  essential  conditions  characterize  the  com- 
munion of  saints  with  God  and  with  one  another,  which 
has,  we  trust,  been  awakened  into  an  unwonted  activi- 
ty through  our  land — if  humiliation,  honesty,  unselfish- 
ness, thankfulness,  sympathy,  submissiveness,  believing 
importunity,  and  an  earnest  desire  for  the  leadings  of 
the  Spirit  of  grace  and  of  supplications,  should  mark 
the  secret  and  social  prayers  of  God's  people,  we  may 
assure  ourselves  that  he  will  send  us  down  a  blessing 
so  large  that  there  shall  not  be  room  to  contain  it.  But 
not  otherwise.  We  need  large  blessings.  You  have 
only  to  look  first  of  all  within,  and  then  abroad  upon  your 
families,  the  church  and  the  state,  to  be  impressed  with 
the  greatness  of  the  necessities  which  at  all  times 
make  the  arm  of  the  Lord  our  only  hope.  Do  not  then 
restrain  prayer,  when  he  has  been  pleased  to  honor  us  so 
vastly,  by  placing  the  prayers  of  his  people  among  the 
chief  laws  and  forces  of  the  world. 


YIII. 
MAN'S  PRIDE  AGAmST  GOD'S  GRACE. 

BY  JOSEPH  P.  THOMPSON,  D.  D., 
Pastor  of  the  Broadway  Tabernacle   Gh/wroh. 

"But  of  him  are  ye  in  Christ  Jesus,  who  of  God  is  made  unto  ua 
wisdom,  and  righteousness,  and  sanctification,  and  redemption." — 
1  Cor.  i.  80. 

The  whole  controversy  between  man  and  his  Maker 
on  the  subject  of  religion,  may  be  reduced  to  a  question 
between  the  pride  of  man  and  the  grace  of  God.  God 
oifers  grace  to  all  men  through  his  incarnate  and  cru- 
cified Son.  But  grace  implies  guilt  and  need  in  those 
to  whom  it  is  offered ;  and  therefore  the  offer  stirs  up 
pride,  even  to  enmity.  ISTo  man  ever  refused  a  tem- 
poral favor  because  it  was  the  gift  of  God.  Multitudes 
enjoy  such  favors  without  acknowledging  the  giver; 
but  the  thought  that  any  such  gift  comes  from  God 
does  not  depreciate  it  in  the  view  of  its  possessor.  The 
man  of  genius,  however  he  may  pride  himself  upon  his 
gifts  in  comparison  with  those  of  his  fellows,  does  not 
suffer  any  mortification  in  the  thought  that  he  has 
received  his  own  talents  from  the  Creator.  Indeed,  he 
may  even  make  this  an  additional  ground  of  exultation, 
as  if  he  were  in  some  way  the  favorite  of  heaven.  One 
wlio  is  born  to  rank  and  wealth  does  not  feel  discredited 
by  the  intimation  that  Providence  has  favored  him  above 
others,  but  even  counts  himself  the  chosen  of  fortune. 

112 


man's  pride  against  god's  grace.  113 

The  ancients  had  special  divinities  of  Poetry,  of  Fame, 
of  Fortune,  under  whose  patronage  individuals  were  pre- 
sumed to  be  born  and  to  flourish,  and  these  presiding 
divinities  received  the  special  homage  of  their  proteges. 
It  is  no  oflfence  to  men  that  they  receive  temporal  favor 
or  personal  distinction  from  a  higher  power. 

But  when  it  comes  to  the  question  of  a  holy  character, 
the  suggestion  that  this  must  be  sought  through  the 
grace  of  God,  stirs  up  pride  in  the  heart  of  man,  because 
it  carries  with  it  the  implication  of  guilt  and  need.  One 
may  accept  temporal  benefits  at  the  hand  of  God,  and, 
instead  of  being  humble  and  grateful,  may  be  vain  and 
boastful,  as  if  he  were  in  some  way  worthy — even  as  the 
Pharisee,  who  thanked  God  that  he  was  not  as  other  men 
in  their  outward  seeming.  But  one  cannot  accept  the 
grace  of  God  which  bringeth  salvation,  without  owning 
himself  a  sinner,  in  need  of  grace — ^guilty,  lost,  ready  to 
perish,  unless  God  shall  interpose  to  save.  Only  sin- 
ners have  need  of  grace  ;  only  sinners  can  be  saved  by 
Christ ;  and  among  sinners,  such  only  as  feel  and  confess 
their  guilt,  and  therefore  come  to  him  for  pardon,  for 
justification,  and  for  a  new  spirit. 

This  is  the  main  point  in  the  chapter  now  before  us. 
"  The  preaching  of  the  cross,"  says  the  apostle,  "  is  to  them 
that  perish  foolishness ;  but  to  us  which  are  saved  it  is  the 
power  of  God."  The  pride  of  men  contemns  God's  method 
of  salvation.  "  The  Jews  require  a  sign  ;"  their  supersti- 
tious trust  in  outward  ordinances  demands  some  new 
miracle  which  shall  minister  to  their  vanity  as  the 
chosen  people  of  God.  They  are  ready  for  a  Christ 
who  will  achieve  their  national  independence,  and  make 
their  name  great,  as  it  was  before  Egypt  and  the  Canaan- 
ites.  The  Greeks,  given  to  the  culture  of  taste  and  the 
pursuit  of  philosophy,  "  seek  after  wisdom  ;"  demand  a 
religion  that  adapts  itself  to  their  views  of  reason  and 


114  THE   NEW   YORK   PULPIT. 

propriety.  "But  we  preach  Christ  crucified,  to  the 
Jews  a  stumblino'-block,"  offending  their  pride,  touch- 
ing their  national  honor,  the  very  opposite  of  all  their 
Opinions  and  hopes:  "and  to  the  Greeks,  foolishness.;" 
for  their  system  of  rationalism,  of  the  development  of 
the  understanding  in  the  worship  of  nature,  disdains  the 
idea  of  a  reforming  power  in  the  blood  of  one  crucified 
as  a  malefactor ;  "  yet  to  them  which  are  called,"  who 
are  made  to  feel  their  guilt  and  theii'  need,  this  same 
Christ  crucified  is  "  the  power  of  God^''  greater  than  all 
miracles,  and  "  the  wisdom  of  God,''  higher  than  all 
philosophy.  And  this  humbling  doctrine  of  the  cross, 
is  to  the  very  intent  that  no  flesh  should  glory  in  the 
presence  of  the  Maker  and  Lord  of  all.  This  brings  us 
back  to  the  very  issue  named  at  the  outset — the  conflict 
in  this  matter  of  personal  religion  between  the  pride 
of  man  and  the  grace  of  God. 

The  Scriptures  ascribe  the  salvation  of  men,  in  all  its 
steps,  entirely  to  the  grace  of  God ;  and  therefore  they 
ascribe  to  him  also  the  glory.  The  text  enumerates  the 
several  benefits  which  Christ  brings  to  us,  and  traces 
these  all  to  "  the  gift  of  God."  If  we  analyze  these,  we 
must  see  that,  at  every  point  of  our  moral  necessity^ 
Christ  is  the  adequate  provision  ;  that  he  comes  to  us  as 
the  expression  of  God''s  grace/  and  that  through  the 
same  grace  we  are  led  to  accept  him  unto  sal/cation. 
"  Of  him  \i.  <?.,  of  the  will  of  God]  are  ye  in  Christ 
Jesus,  who  of  God  \i.  e.^  by  the  appointment  of  God]  is 
made  to  us  Wisdom,  and  Righteousness,  and  Sanctifica- 
tion,  and  Ecdemption.     The  text  declares, 

1.  That  Christ  becomes  to  believers  Wisdom,  Righteous- 
ness, Sanctification,  and  Redemption. 

2.  Tliat  Christ  thus  becomes  the  source  of  all  spiritual 
good,  by  the  appointment  of  God  the  Father. 

3.  That  it  is  solely  through  the  grace  of  God,  that  we 


man's  pride  against  god's  grace.  115 

individually  enter  into  sucli  a  relation  with  Christ,  as  to 
secure  for  ourselves  these  great  blessings. 

1.  Christ  becomes  to  us  ioisdo7n.  This  wisdom  is  the 
knowledge  of  divine  things,  not  as  mere  objects  of  thought 
or  of  theoretical  knowledge,  but  through  an  inward  per- 
ception, in  which  the  heart  goes  along  with  the  reason, 
making  the  knowledge  at  once  spiritual  and  practical. 
This  is  always  presented  in  the  Scriptures  as  wisdom  in 
its  highest  form.  "The  fear  of  the  Lord  is  the  beginning 
of  wisdom,"  is  one  of  the  most  frequent  proverbs  of  the 
Old  Testament.  It  means  something  more  than  that  one 
begins  to  act  wisely,  when  he  begins  to  fear  the  Lord ; 
for  as  it  reads  in  the  margin  of  Prov.  i.  7:  "The  fear  of 
the  Lord  is  the  principal  part  of  knowledge,"  and  hence 
the  exhortation  to  apply  the  heart  to  wisdom,  "and  seek 
for  her  as  silver :  for  the  Lord  giveth  wisdom."  Again 
we  read,  "  the  fear  of  the  Lord  is  the  instruction  of  wis- 
dom;" i.  ^.,  devout  obedience  to  God  conducts  the  soul 
to  the  highest  wisdom ;  the  obedience  of  the  heart  dis- 
ciplines the  mind  in  heavenly  knowledge,  upon  the 
princix^le  stated  by  Christ :  "  K  any  man  will  do  his  will, 
he  shall  know  of  the  doctrine."  In  the  New  Testament 
this  same  "wisdom"  is  set  forth  as  the  completest  form 
of  knowledge.  Christ  is  said  to  have  "abounded  to- 
ward us  in  all  wisdom,  having  made  known  to  us  the 
mystery  of  his  will,"^'.  6.,  the  wisdom  which  Christ  imparts, 
is  a  knowledge  of  the  will  of  God,  of  those  divine  mys- 
teries which  natural  reason  does  not  grasp  or  fathom. 
The  word  is  even  applied  to  such  revelations  of  the  di- 
vine will  as  were  made  to  the  apostles,  under  the  sj^ecial 
inspiration  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 

This  wisdom  is  knowledge  in  its  highest  form.  Solo- 
mon, who  with  respect  to  a  practical  judgment  of  what  is 
right,  and  good,  and  true,  was  the  wisest  of  men,  and  who 
attained  to  such  a  knowledge  of  natural  science,  of  po- 


116  THE    NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

litical  economy,  and  of  practical  affairs,  as  made  him  tlie 
wonder  of  his  age ;  whose  observations  on  the  winds  and 
rains,  the  rivers  and  oceans,  tlie  heavenly  bodies,  plants, 
trees,  fruits,  animals,  minerals,  metals,  all  the  phenom- 
ena of  nature,  and  also  upon  human  society  and  gov- 
ernment, make  the  books  of  Proverbs  and  Ecclesiastes, 
the  store-house  of  ancient  knowledge — this  same  wise 
man  declares  that  mere  natural  wisdom,  or  wisdom  ap- 
plied to  natural  things,  is  labor,  weariness,  and  vanity ; 
but  that  to  fear  God  and  keep  his  commandments  is  the 
sum  of  all  knowledge  and  duty.     This  knowledge  of 
God,  associated  Tvith  love  and  obedience,  was  vainly 
sought  after  by  the  ancient  philosophy.      To   Greeks, 
who  were  continually  seeking  after  wisdom,  and  who 
made  philosophy  their  boast,  Paul  says:  "The  world  by 
wisdom   knew  not  God;" — all  the  researches  of  your 
boasted  philosophy,  all  the  theories  of  your  wisest  men, 
have  failed  to  comprehend  aright  the  being  or  the  char- 
acter of  God.     Reason  might  have  discovered  these ;  but 
through  the  love  of  the  creature,  man  turned  aside  from 
the  knowledge  of  God,  and  so  "  God  made  foolish  the  wis- 
dom of  this  world." 

Now  Christ  becomes  to  us  "wisdom,"  the  source  of 
true  spiritual  knowledge,  in  these  two  respects :  He  makes 
known  to  us  God,  as  he  was  never  before  manifested  to 
men;  and  by  his  enlightening  and  sanctifying  Spirit, 
within  our  hearts,  giving  to  reason  a  right  direction,  he 
leads  us  to  a  perception  or  discernment  of  this  knowledge 
which  we  should  not  otherwise  attain.  There  are  two 
essential  conditions  of  sight:  one  is  light,  the  other  a 
sound  eye.  The  perfection  of  the  eye  does  not  avail  in 
pitch  darkness ;  the  pureness  of  the  light  does  not  enable 
a  blind  man  to  see.  E'ow  Christ  is  at  once  the  light  of 
the  mind,  and  the  eye  of  the  soul.  He  is  the  pure  trans- 
parent medium  or  atmosphere  through  which  we  may 


man's  pkide  against  god's  gkace.  117 

behold  God  just  as  he  is;  and  when  once  received  by  a 
rational  and  cordial  faith,  he  so  purges  our  intellect  and 
conscience  of  the  blinding  humors  that  sin  had  gathered 
about  them,  that  we  can  bear  this  light,  and  see  without 
distortion  or  suppression. 

It  will  not  increase  our  knowledge  of  mere  natural 
things,  to  embrace  Christ  and  be  taught  of  him ;  except 
as,  by  a  general  invigoration  of  the  powers,  this  may  en- 
able one  to  cast  off  errors  even  in  natural  science.  The 
Brahmin,  for  example,  who  has  always  regarded  the 
created  universe  as  a  huge  animal  or  machine  animated 
by  the  Deity,  when  he  comes  to  the  knowledge  of  God 
in  Christ,  gains  a  view  of  the  personality  of  God,  and  of 
his  active,  superintending  providence,  which  at  once 
annihilates  all  his  natural  science,  and  puts  him  in  the 
way  of  sound  physical  knowledge.  And  so  the  savage 
who  learns  Christ,  unlearns  all  his  superstitions  about  the 
elements  of  nature,  the  lightning,  the  storm,  the  flood, 
diseases  and  death,  and  comes  to  a  wiser  view  of  natural 
phenomena.  Li  matters  of  decency  and  taste  also,  that 
which  mere  contact  with  civilization  could  not  rectify  or 
improve,  is  at  once  reformed  when  the  perception  of 
moral  beauty  is  awakened  in  the  soul  by  receiving 
Christ. 

But  all  this  is  merely  incidental  to  that  higher  wisdom 
which  Christ  imparts  in  the  right  spiritual  knowledge 
of  God.  It  will  not  teach  you  mathematics  or  meta- 
physics; it  will  not  enable  you  to  calculate  the  dis- 
tances of  the  stars,  or  the  depths  of  the  sea ;  it  will  not 
unravel  for  you  the  mysteries  of  the  air,  in  relation  to 
winds,  rains,  climates,  and  diseases ;  it  vtdll  not  resolve 
for  you  the  elements  of  nature  or  the  phenomena  of 
mind,  simply  to  believe  in  Christ :  you  will  not  become 
wise  in  the  meaning  of  the  universities,  nor  in  the 
esteem  of  the  men  of  this  world ; — but  that  knowledge 


118  THE   NEW   YORK    PULPIT. 

whicli  is  before  and  beyond  all  other — wliich  is  tlie  first, 
and  ever  tlie  greatest  want  of  a  thinking  sonl,  and  whicb  is 
also  the  consummation  of  all  knowledge,  in  time  and  in 
eternity — the  knowledge  of  God  in  the  grandeur  of  his 
attributes,  in  the  mystery  of  His  triune  nature  revealed  in 
Christ,  in  the  glory  of  His  holiness,  in  the  excellency  of  His 
love,  in  His  paternal  goodness,  in  His  redeeming  mercy, 
in  His  pledged  and  everlasting  grace  ;  this  is  the  wisdom 
that  Christ  brings  to  the  humblest  of  his  disciples. 
What  matters  it  to  have  climbed  the  heights  of  moun- 
tains, and  compassed  the  earth,  if  there  be  no  heights  of 
glory  for  the  soul  beyond  ?  What  matters  it  to  have 
sounded  the  sea,  and  have  gathered  its  treasures,  if  the 
soul  shall  never  stand  upon  the  sea  of  glass  before  the 
throne  ?  What  matters  it  to  have  visited  upon  beams 
of  light  the  outmost  planet,  and  have  measured  the 
stars,  if  for  the  disembodied  spirit  there  shall  be  no 
wings  of  love  to  bear  it  to  a  celestial  home?  What 
matters  it  to  have  analyzed  the  constitution  of  the  soul, 
if  the  great  wants  of  that  soul,  as  a  spiritual  and  im- 
mortal existence,  shall  be  for  ever  unsatisfied?  The 
wisdom  that  Christ  brings,  that  Christ  is,  is  the  wisdom 
that  man  ever  needs,  but  had  never  found.  It  is  the 
wisdom  of  Grod ;  the  being,  the  attributes,  the  character, 
the  works,  the  government,  the  purposes,  and,  above  all, 
the  emotions,  the  desires,  and  the  promises  of  God  toward 
man,  all  truly  and  fully  displayed ;  and  while  it  is  no 
newly  created  faculty  within  the  soul,  it  is  that  soul 
itself  in  all  its  faculties,  quickened  and  purified  to 
behold,  to  honor,  to  love,  and  to  enjoy  God  as  He  is. 
This  is  that  wisdom  which  is  the  life  of  the  soul.  "  For 
this  is  life  eternal,  to  know  the  only  true  God,  and  Jesus 
Christ  whom  He  hath  sent." 

But  in  order  that  this  knowledge  of  God  may  be 
made  profitable  to   a  sinful  creature,  he  needs  to  be 


119 

restored  to  that  moral  rectitude  from  wliicli  lie  has 
fallen.  And  for  this,  also,  Christ  is  ready,  Christ  is  all- 
sufficient  :  He  is  made  to  us  righteousness.  Had  Jesus  of 
J^azareth  been  only  a  greater  and  wiser  Plato,  announc- 
ing perfect  truth,  imparting  a  perfect  knowlege  of  God, 
in  the  naked  form  of  a  system  of  theology  and  morality, 
it  would  have  been  as  if  he  had  brought  to  our  view 
another  and  brighter  sun,  spotless  in  its  glory,  but  far 
off  and  inapproachable.  Man,  remaining  as  he  is  in 
character,  does  not  desire  more  light.  He  loves  dark- 
ness rather  than  light.  He  cares  not  to  know  the  truth 
unless  he  is  willing  to  do  his  duty.  He  cares  not  to 
approach  God  until  he  is  disposed  to  be  reconciled,  and 
is  assured  that  he  can  be  reconciled.  And  he  is  averse 
to  having  God  brought  near  to  him  as  a  light^  unless  He 
comes  also  with  love.  If  he  would  so  much  as  look 
towards  that  glory  which  dazzles  the  seraphim,  he  must 
be  made  sure  of  his  standing-place,  and  covered  by  a 
shield  from  its  beams,  which  else  might  consume  him. 
Christ  is  that  foundation,  Christ  is  that  cover.  When 
he  brings  God  nigh  in  his  holiness,  he  plants  the  sinner 
upon  the  foundation  of  his  own  obedience  to  the  law, 
and  covers  him  with  His  perfect  righteousness.  He  is 
our  justification;  not  our  apologist,  not  our  partisan,  not 
attempting  to  shield  us  in  the  wrong ;  but  He  is  the 
ground  or  reason  of  our  justification  before  the  law ;  so 
that  we,  who  have  no  righteousness  of  our  own,  can  be 
regarded  as  righteous  in  Him  who  loved  and  died.  He 
comes  before  the  law  as  our  Advocate,  not  to  invent 
excuses  or  to  plead  extenuation;  not  to  devise  expe- 
dients for  our  escape;  but  he  begins  the  case  by  con- 
fessing the  guilt  of  his  client,  and  then  offers  himself  for 
the  penalty. 

But  to  stop  here  would  be  to  leave  the  great  end 
unaccomplished.     Of  what  benefit  would  it  be  to  us  to 


120  THE   NEW   YORK   PULPIT. 

save  us  from  legal  penalty  and  leave  us  in  sin  ?  For  sin, 
by  its  very  nature,  works  penalty  in  tlie  soul ;  degrades 
its  faculties ;  defiles  its  affections ;  corrupts  its  will ;  poi- 
sons its  imagination ;  perverts  its  judgment ;  alienates  it 
from  goodness  and  truth ;  unfits  it  for  companionship 
with  the  pure  and  holy,  and  for  the  society  of  God.  Of 
what  benefit  is  it  to  a  drunkard,  if  one  should  pay  a  fine 
to  release  him  from  the  legal  penalty  of  di'unkenness, 
and  then  send  him  back  to  the  dram  shop  ?  Of  what 
advantage  would  it  be  to  the  kingdom  of  God,  to  the 
social  condition  of  this  world,  to  the  moral  interests  of 
the  universe,  to  remit  the  penalty  against  transgressors, 
and  give  them  a  renewed  license  to  sin  ?  Nay,  what  evil 
would  there  not  be  in  such  an  implied  j^ermission  of  sin 
on  the  part  of  the  lawgiver  and  judge  ?  If  Christ's  death 
procured  an  indiscriminate  justification  of  sinners  as 
such,  it  would  prove  the  greatest  possible  calamity. 

But  he  is  made  to  us  sanctification.  By  his  own  pure 
and  perfect  example,  by  the  energizing  and  reform- 
ing power  of  truth,  by  the  indwelling  power  and  virtue 
of  his  Spirit,  he  renews  and  transforms  us  into  his  own 
likeness,  into  the  image  of  God. 

Possibly,  in  another  sense  also,  Christ  may  be  said  to 
become  our  sanctification.  The  law  strictly  can  recog- 
nize only  a  perfect  and  an  absolute  holiness  ;  but  under 
grace,  while  the  law  is  still  the  one  standa/rd  of  duty, 
a  governing  disposition  towards  holiness,  the  honest, 
earnest,  supreme,  and  constant  endeavor  of  the  soul  to 
be  holy,  is  recognized  for  Christ's  sake  as  distinguishing 
the  Christian,  though  imperfect,  from  the  wiUful  trans- 
gressor. 

And  tliis  justification  and  sanctification  are  with  a 
view  to  a  final  redemption  from  all  the  evils  of  sin. 
Tlie  act  of  justification  is  at  once  complete,  for  every 
soul  that  accepts  Christ.     "  There  is  now  no  condemna- 


MAN  S   PRIDE,    OR   GOD  S   GRACE.  121 

tion  to  them  that  are  in  Christ  Jesus — who  walk  not 
after  the  flesh  but  after  the  spirit."  "  Being  justified 
by  faith,  we  have  peace  with  God,  through  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ."  "  Being  now  justified  by  his  blood,  we 
shall  be  saved  from  wrath  through  him."  Tlie  work  of 
sanctification,  however,  is  yet  incomplete.  "We  are  still 
in  the  flesh  ;  still  accessible  to  temptation  ;  still  exposed 
to  the  great  adversary  ;  still  beset  with  infirmities  ;  still 
in  danger  of  falling  ;  still  burdened  with  besetting  sin. 
All  our  illumination  as  to  the  divine  character,  our 
quickened  perception  of  the  holiness  of  God,  in  its 
beauty  and  glory,  would  but  aggravate  our  sense  of  im- 
perfection and  unworthiness,  could  we  not  look  forward 
to  a  complete  emancipation  from  evil.  K  our  existence 
were  to  continue  one  prolonged  and  uncertain  warfare 
with  sin  in  ourselves,  the  glory  of  the  atonement  would 
fail  to  be  realized.  But  Christ  has  achieved  our  redemp- 
tion from  all  the  power  and  consequences  of  sin. 
"  Whom  he  called,  them  he  also  justified  and  whom  he 
justified,  them  he  also  glorified.^'^  "  By  his  own  blood, 
he  entered  in  once  into  the  holy  place,  having  obtained 
eternal  redemption  for  us."  The  day  of  redemption  is 
spoken  of  in  Scripture  as  a  period  when  the  purchased 
possession  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  his  living  and  sanctified 
church,  shall  be  delivered  in  soul  and  in  body,  from  all 
evil ;  when  sin  and  death  shall  have  no  more  power ; 
when  the  atoning  grace  of  Christ  shall  be  consummated 
in  the  actual  and  eternal  deliverance  of  an  innumerable 
multitude  from  all  the  evils  of  the  fall  and  its  curse, 
from  all  trace  and  consequence  of  sin. 

2.  We  have  now  summed  up  the  blessings  which  the 
text  ascribes  to  the  mediation  of  Christ.  It  further 
teaches  us,  that  Christ  is  made  the  author  of  all  spiritual 
good  hy  ajppointment  of  God  the  Father.  Christ  did 
not  rise  up  as  a  mere  man  of  loftier  genius  and  better 


122  THE   NEW   YORK    PULPIT. 

nature,  to  instruct  and  elevate  the  race.  He  was  sent 
into  the  world  to  save  men  from  their  sins  ;  sent  by  God 
the  Maker,  the  Lawgiver,  the  Lord  of  all ;  sent  by  the 
offended  Sovereign  whose  law  had  been  dishonored, 
and  whose  authonty  rejected  ;  sent  by  the  compassion- 
ate and  forgiving  Father  of  mankind,  the  only  begotten 
of  the  Father,  full  of  grace  and  truth.  This  feature  of 
the  plan  of  redemption  should  never  be  forgotten.  The 
death  of  Christ  was  not  a  sacrifice  to  appease  wrath,  but 
to  proclaim  mercy.  He  came  from  God.  And  it  is  of 
God — of  his  self-originated  grace,  of  his  divine  com- 
panion and  mercy,  of  Him  from  beginning  to  end,  that 
Christ  is  made  our  wisdom,  righteousness,  sanctification, 
redemption.  He  sent  Jesus  to  enlighten  us ;  he  accepts 
his  perfect  righteousness  as  our  shield ;  he  sends  through 
him  the  sanctifying  Spirit;  he  promises  in  Christ 
eternal  life  to  all  that  believe.  This  wondrous  plan  in 
its  inception,  its  successive  steps,  its  glorious  consumma- 
tion, is  all  divine. 

3.  But  there  is  a  third  idea  in  the  text,  which  is  essen- 
tial to  the  completeness  of  the  subject ;  viz. :  That  it  is 
solely  through  the  grace  of  Ood^  that  we  indimdio- 
ally  enter  into  such  relations  with  Christ  as  secure 
for  ov/rsel/ves  these  blessings  purchased  hy  his  Mood. 
"  Of  him  are  ye  in  Christ  Jesus."  To  be  in  Christ  is 
an  essential  condition  of  sharing  the  blessings  of  his 
grace;  in  him  by  the  personal  participation  of  his 
grace ;  in  him  by  that  living  faith  which  makes  us 
branches  of  the  vine ;  in  him  by  a  sympathy  of  feeling 
toward  sin  and  toward  God,  wrought  in  us  by  his  grace ; 
in  him  as  the  dearest  object  of  our  love,  and  the 
centre  of  our  hopes.  Only  to  those  who  are  thus  in 
Christ,  does  he  become  the  source  of  good  which  the 
text  describes.  And  they  come  to  be  in  Clirist  through 
the  effectual  grace  of  God — grace  not  only  in  provid- 


man's  pride  against  god's  grace.  123 

ing  a  Saviour,  but  grace  in  leading  them  to  that  Saviour. 
This  grace  does  not  regenerate  the  soul  in  a  passive 
state.  Men  are  not  converted  in  their  sleep,  nor  with 
dormant  faculties.  If  Christ  becomes  wisdom  to  any 
mind,  it  is  because  that  mind  exercises  its  thought 
upon  Christ  and  his  truth— opens  itself  to  his  teaching, 
yields  to  his  truth.  If  Christ,  becomes  righteousness  to 
any  soul,  it  is  because  that  soul  by  its  own  act  of  faith 
by  looking  to  him  and  trusting  in  him,  accepts  his 
atonement  as  its  plea  for  pardon.  K  Christ  becomes 
sanctification  to  any  soul,  it  is  because  that  soul,  feeling 
its  guilt  and  need,  seeks  by  his  grace  to  conquer  sin, 
strives  to  become  holy,  and  to  purify  itself  by  obeying 
the  truth  through  the  Spirit.  And  if  Christ  shall  here- 
after be  the  redemption  of  any  soul,  it  will  be  because 
that  soul  has  kept  its  confidence  in  him  steadfast  to  the 
end.  God  deals  with  men  as  thinking,  acting,  free, 
intelligent,  responsible  beings ;  there  is  no  grace  that 
destroys  man's  moral  nature  in  the  very  act  of  renew- 
ing it  to  holiness.  But  while  man's  activity  must  be 
put  forth  in  acts  of  thought  and  resolve,  in  faith  and 
love  and  obedience,  or  Christ  will  never  avail  him,  it 
is  yet  true  that  no  man  really  comes  to  Christ,  "  except 
the  Father  draw  him."  The  Holy  Spirit  brings  truth 
vividly  before  the  mind,  and  thus  brings  it  to  see  itself, 
and  to  see  God  in  the  light  of  Christ's  teaching  concern- 
ing both ;  the  Holy  Spirit  takes  the  things  of  Christ  and 
shows  them  to  us,  and  thus  makes  Christ  om*  wisdom ; 
the  Holy  Spirit  incites  us  to  the  act  of  faith ;  we  must 
put  forth  that  act,  but  He  moves  us  towards  it ;  the 
Holy  Spirit  by  the  truth  kindles  within  us  desires  after 
holiness,  and  inciting  us  to  prayer  and  watchfulness,  pro- 
motes our  sanctification;  and  therefore,  though  Christ 
can  be  literally  nothing  to  us,  without  our  own  act  of 
reflection,  of  repentance,  of  faith,  of  love,  yet  since  we 


124  THE   NEW   YORK   PULPIT. 

will  put  forth  no  proper  act  toward  him  except  as 
moved  by  grace,  we  do  owe  to  that  grace  our  salvation 
from  first  to  last.  If  we  are  in  Christ,  if  we  know  him, 
if  we  partake  of  his  righteousness  and  his  Spirit,  if  we 
have  hope  of  his  redemption, — ^it  is  all  from  God,  who 
hath  had  mercy  upon  us. 

1.  Our  subject  makes  it  manifest  that  Christ  should 
he  the  one  substance  of  gospel  preaching.  Is  the  Bible 
given  to  convey  to  us  the  knowledge  of  God?  But 
Christ  is  that  wisdom.  Is  the  Bible  given  to  bring  us 
near  to  God  ?  But  Christ  is  the  way  of  righteousness  and 
peace.  Is  the  Bible  given  to  make  us  holy?  But 
Christ  is  our  sanctifi cation.  Is  the  Bible  given  to  fit  us 
for  heaven  ?  But  Christ  is  our  redemption.  Tlierefore 
"  we  preach  Christ  crucified,  the  power  of  God  and  the 
wisdom  of  God."  To  preach  a  gospel  without  Christ, 
is  to  preach  another  gospel,  "  which  yet  is  not  another," 
since  it  can  bring  no  grace  nor  salvation  to  a  guilty 
world.  But  this  gospel  has  a  perj^etual  power.  How 
long  could  Mr.  Everett  attract  the  same  audience  with  his 
eloquent  delineation  of  Washington  ?  But  the  character 
and  work  of  Christ,  however  humbly  set  forth,  will 
move  men  till  the  end  of  time.  Washington  delivered 
his  country,  but  cannot  save  our  souls.  Christ  alone  is 
our  righteousness  and  our  redemj^tion. 

2.  Christians  should  make  the  most  of  Christ  in  this 
life,  as  well  as  hope  in  Him  for  all  the  future.  Eeady 
enough  are  we,  brethren,  to  accept  of  Christ  as  our 
righteousness,  and  to  look  to  his  death  as  the  ground  of 
our  pardon  and  justification  before  God;  ready  enough 
to  look  forward  to  our  final  redemption  through  him ; 
to  accept  Christ  throughout  upon  the  external  and  legal 
side  of  his  work,  as  a  deliverer  from  condemnation, 
from  penalty,  and  finally  from  all  evil.  In  one  word, 
we  are  ready  enough  to  be  saved  by  Christ,  and  to  give 


125 

to  liim  all  the  glory  for  that.  But  are  we  as  ready  to 
accept  his  teachings — ^to  make  him  our  wisdom ;  as  ready 
and  eager  to  be  sanctified  as  we  are  to  be  saved?  Is 
Christ  made  to  us  wisdom — do  we  seek  daily  light  in 
him  and  come  by  him  to  a  higher,  closer  knowledge  of 
God?  Is  Christ  made  to  us  sanctificationf  Do  we  be- 
come consciously  Kke  him — holy  in  thought  and  piir- 
pose,  in  desire  and  act?  Can  we  divide  the  work  of 
Christ,  and  divorce  one  part  from  another — ^take  the 
justification  and  the  final  redemption,  but  omit  the  hum- 
ble, patient,  earnest  seeking  of  knowledge  and  of  holi- 
ness in  him?  "Would  you  know  whether  you  are  in 
Christ  ?  Look  not  only  to  your  catechism,  but  to  your 
life;  not  only  to  your  faith  in  doctrine,  but  to  faith 
in  action. 

3.  Christ  is  all  that  any  soul  can  need^  'but  what  every 
soul  must  have^  that  would  see  life.  Sum  up  these  four 
particulars  of  our  text :  the  right  knowledge  of  God ;  a 
right  standing  or  acceptance  with  God ;  holiness,  or  a 
character  like  God;  deliverance  from  all  evil,  and  a 
share  in  the  blessedness  of  God.  Is  there  anything 
more  that  any  soul  can  want  in  the  eternity  of  its  being? 
Has  Paul  found  anything  more  than  these,  in  aU  the 
ages  of  his  rejoicing  before  the  throne?  Can  eternity 
bring  anything  more  than  the  knowledge,  the  peace, 
the  holiness,  the  blessedness  of  God,  to  dwell  within  the 
soul?  And  yet,  perhaps  you  are  seeking  to  add  some- 
thing to  this  work  of  Christ; — by  some  merit  of  your 
own  to  piece  out  the  purchase  of  his  blood  !  Yain,  fool- 
ish man!  Tlirow  away  thyself  and  come  humbly, 
gratefully  to  the  foot  of  the  cross.  Or  is  there  anything 
in  this  brief  but  all-comprehensive  summary  of  blessings 
that  you  can  do  without  ?  Can  you  do  without  the  know- 
ledge of  God  as  He  is  revealed  in  Christ  ?  Then  you  must 
know  Him  out  of  Christ,  as  "  a  consuming  fire."    Can  you 


126  THE   NEW   YORK    PULPIT. 

do  witliout  a  pardon  from  the  Saviour  you  have  offended, 
the  Judge  to  whose  bar  you  hasten  ?  Can  you  do  with- 
out holiness  ?  Can  you  do  without  redemption  ?  And 
would  you  set  up  your  wisdom  against  the  wisdom  of 
God ;  your  pride  against  his  grace  ?  "  Despisest  thou  the 
riches  of  his  goodness  and  forbearance,  and  long  suffer- 
ing— ^not  knowing  that  the  goodness  of  God  leadeth 
thee  to  repentance."  My  hearers,  you  cannot  enter  the 
heaven  where  Christ  is,  but  in  the  way  which  Christ 
has  opened  through  his  cross. 


IX. 

TEAES  AT  THE  JUDGMEISTT. 

BY   JOHN  M.   KREBS,  D.D., 
Pastor  of  the  Butgers  street  PredbyteHmi  Chv/rch,  Nemo  YorJa. 

There  shall  be  weeping. — Matt.  xxii.  13. 

The  blessedness  of  the  heavenly  state  is  set  forth  to 
our  comprehension  by  imagery  that  may  be  readily 
appreciated,  in  its  resemblance  to  the  course  and  consti- 
tution of  things  around  us.  For  the  poor,  there  are  laid 
up  exhaustless  riches ;  for  the  joyless,  there  are  rivers 
of  pleasures ;  for  the  outcast,  there  is  a  home  in  the 
house  of  many  mansions. 

Among  the  most  attractive  representations  of  the  hap- 
piness of  Heaven,  is  this — ^that  there  the  Lord  shall  wipe 
away  all  tears  from  the  faces  of  His  people — that  there 
shall  be  no  more  weeping.  This  representation  is  fitted 
to  interest  every  heart.  This  world  is  a  vale  of  tears. 
Every  habitation  of  man,  every  personal  history,  fur- 
nishes scenes  that  serve,  by  contrast,  to  illustrate  and 
enhance  the  happiness  and  glory  of  that  world,  from 
which  all  sorrow  and  sighing  flee  away,  and  where  the 
days  of  mourning  are  ended. 

But  this  is  not  to  be  the  portion  of  all,  without  refer- 
ence to  their  moral  character  and  fitness.  The  Scriptures 
appropriate  and  restrict  it  to  one  certain  description  of 
persons.     These  are  the  just  made  perfect ;  the  heirs  of 

127 


128  THE   NEW   YORK   PULPIT. 

the  rigliteousness  of  faith ;  those  who  once,  indeed,  were 
children  of  wrath,  even  as  others,  but  who  are  washed, 
and  sanctified,  and  justified,  in  the  name  of  the  Lord 
Jesus,  and  by  the  Spirit  of  our  God. 

It  is  distinctly  intimated  to  us  that  all  who  fail  of 
this  character,  shall  also  fail  to  inherit  this  blessedness. 
Tor  them  there  is  nothing  but  outlawry.  On  the  day 
of  final  trial,  they  shall  be  condemned  to  "  destruction 
from  the  presence  of  the  Lord,  and  from  the  glory  of 
his  power."  The  punishment  they  suflfer  is  variously 
described.  It  is  to  be  burned  with  "  everlasting  fire  ;" 
it  is  to  be  gnawed  by  the  "  undying  worm ;"  it  is  to 
endure  the  bitter  pains  of  "  eternal  death."  This  is  the 
portion  of  all  the  workers  of  iniquity,  who  refuse  to  part 
with  their  sins  ;  who,  for  the  sake  of  the  darling  right 
hand  of  transgression  and  the  right  eye  of  lust,  are  to  be 
cast  into  hell-fire.*  In  various  addresses  of  Christ,  the 
punishment  of  the  lost  is  spoken  of  in  connection  with 
"  weeping^''  and  "  wailing^^  cmd  "  gnashing  of  teetliP\ 
This  is  the  portion  of  the  disappointed  and  disinherited 
children  of  the  Kingdom,  when  they  see  aliens  adopted, 
and  themselves  are  cast  out  into  the  outer  darkness ; 
— of  the  faithless,  turbulent,  and  unprofitable  servants 
of  Christ ; — of  the  tares ; — and  of  all  those  who  have  no 
interest  in  Christ,  unwashed,  unsanctified,  unjustified, 
unarrayed  in  His  righteousness,  as  they  are  repre- 
sented in  the  parable  of  the  guest  who  had  not  put  on 
the  wedding-garment.  This  is  an  intelligible  part  of 
their  suffering  ;  it  gives  us  an  idea  of  its  bitterness.  It 
may  properly  be  taken  as  an  indication  of  the  manner 
in  which  they  are  affected,  who  sufier  under  the  sen- 
tence of  exclusion  from  the  joy  of  Heaven.     It  is  in  this 

*  Mark  ix.  43. 

\  Compare  Matt.  viii.  12 ;  xxiv.  51  ;  xxv.  30 ;  xiii.  42,  50 ;  Luke  xiii. 
26-28. 


TEARS    AT   THE   JUDGMENT. 

way — ^in  weeping,  and  wailing,  and  gnashing  of  teeth — 
that  they  vent  their  sorrow  and  despair.  While  this 
expression  of  their  grief  is  to  be  eternal  as  the  everlast- 
ing fire,  it  may  be  supposed  to  commence  at  the  very 
bar  of  God.  The  wrath  is  in  the  soiil  of  the  sinner.  He 
comes  to  that  bar  in  the  speechlessness  of  conscious  guilt, 
and  with  a  "fearful  looking  for  of  judgment  and  fiery 
indignation."  With  consternation,  he  hears  his  doom. 
He  turns  away  upon  his  dreary  road  to  the  prison- 
house.  But,  like  a  criminal  convicted  in  the  dock,  he 
sinks  under  the  verdict  and  the  sentence,  and  bursts 
forth,  at  once,  in  the  lamenting  expressions  of  his  bitter 
and  terrible  distress. 

We  may  regard  this  "  gnashing  of  the  teeth,"  as 
descriptive  of  the  intense  agony  of  despair.  It  is  expres- 
sive of  hate  and  blasphemy,  like  theirs  who  were 
scorched  with  great  heat  and  blasphemed  the  name  of 
God,  and  repented  not  to  give  him  glory,  and  gnawed 
their  tongues  for  pain,  and  blasphemed  the  God  of 
heaven,  because  of  their  pains  and  their  sores,  and 
repented  not  of  their  deeds.*  There  is  something  akin 
to  fiendishness,  in  these  utterances  of  hatred,  and  defi- 
ance, and  blasphemy,  as  the  wicked  gnash  their  teeth 
in  the  damnation  of  Hell. 

"  Wailing "  is  lamentation  with  wringing  of  hands 
and  outcry.  It  bursts  forth  upon  the  public  ear.  And 
it  has  about  it,  something  of  the  aspect  of  vulgar  woe. 

These  manifestations  of  grief  are  obvious  and  di*ead- 
ful.  Yet,  perhaps,  these  images  may  not  affect  us  so 
forcibly  as  the  "  weeping  "  which  is  to  be  the  expression 
of  distress  in  that  day.  There  is  an  aspect  of  refinement, 
something  unobtrusive  in  "  weeping,"  as  contrasted 
with  "  wailing  and  gnashing  of  teeth."    It  is  a  more 

• 

*  Rev.  xvi.  9-11. 

6^ 


130  THE   NEW   YORK    PULPIT. 

silent,  subdued  grief ;  but  deep  and  bitter  indeed  ;  the 
manifestation  of  overwlielming  and  liopeless  sorrow. 

To  this,  let  us  turn  our  thoughts  especially. 

We  have  often  felt  emotions  which  struggled  in  sigh- 
ings  or  flowed  forth  from  the  eye  in  scalding  tears. 
How  are  we  affected  witli  sympathies  that  move  our 
pity  and  compassion  for  the  woes  of  our  fellow-creatures  ; 
— for  a  child  in  its  first  endurance  of  orphanage,  lament- 
ing for  its  lost  mother  ;  for  a  woman  in  the  desolation  of 
widowhood,  or  suffering  from  tyranny  and  oppression  ; 
and  perhaps  most  of  all,  for  the  strong  man,  when  we 
saw  him  bowed  down,  prostrated,  overwhelmed,  by  some 
calamity  that  crushed  his  heart  with  a  single  blow. 
We  saw  the  grief  of  these  objects  of  our  pity,  and  shared 
it,  almost  in  spite  of  ourselves.  How,  too,  have  we  felt, 
when  the  calamity  was  all  our  own  !  The  cup  was  filled 
with  gall  and  wormwood,  and  the  pressure  of  our  sor- 
row was  so  great  that  it  unnerved,  unmanned  us.  Who 
of  us  is  not  familiar  with  the  causes  of  weeping  ;  rather, 
who  is  not  familiar  with  weeping  itself?  And  who 
knows  not,  too,  from  his  own  experience,  how  effective 
and  grateful  is  the  relief  of  sorrow,  felt  in  copious  shed- 
ding tears?  Tbere  is  even  a  luxury  in  them.  And 
there  is  the  weeping  of  love  and  penitence,  when  the 
full  heart  of  contrition  looks  on  Christ  whom  we  have 
pierced,  and  feels  the  joy  of  pardoned  sin ;  like  the 
weeping  woman  in  the  house  of  Simon,  who  showered 
her  tears  upon  the  feet  of  Jesus,  and  wiped  them  with 
the  hairs  of  her  head  ;  or  like  Peter,  when  he  had  denied 
his  Lord,  and  under  the  melting  look  which  both  re- 
buked and  humbled  and  forgave  him  too,  he  went  out 
and  wept  bitterly. 

But  it  is  not  of  such  weeping  that  our  text  speaks. 
Tliese  may  all  be  gracious  tears  ;  the  weeping  that  en- 
dures for  a  night,  to  be  followed  by  the  joy  of  the  morn- 


TEAKS    AT   THE   JUDGMENT.  131 

ing.  But  that  which  is  described  in  the  premonition 
before  us  is  the  weeping  that  lasts  forever.  It  has  its 
springs  in  a  despairing  heart ;  its  stream  bursts  forth 
from  a  bosom  rent  with  anguish,  and  flows  on  unending. 
Unlike  the  bitter  fountains  of  Marah,  no  cries  prevail 
for  the  procuring  of  that  healing  branch  which  the  Lord 
showed  unto  Moses,  which,  when  it  was  cast  into  the 
waters,  the  waters  were  made  sweet.*  It  is  unavailing 
as  Esau's  when  he  sold  his  birthright.  It  may  be  with 
subdued  sorrow,  that  would  hide  itself  in  solitude  ;  but 
the  desolate  soul  turns  away  from  the  face  of  the  Judge, 
and  would  turn  away  from  the  face  of  the  crowd,  and 
search  out  for  itself  some  secluded  spot,  if  such  there  be 
in  the  pit  of  woe,  where  it  may  nourish  its  hopeless 
grief  with  never  ceasing  tears.  This  is  the  portion  of 
their  cup,  who  suffer  banishment  in  that  day. 

"What  is  there,  in  the  circumstances  of  their  condem- 
nation, to  produce  such  hopeless  and  bitter  sorrow  ?  I 
remark, 

I.  There  is  the  certain  consciousness  of  complete 

DISAPPOINTMENT  AND  UTTER  LOSS. 

Perhaps  the  sufferers  never  thought  of  being  excluded 
from  Heaven,  as  a  real  or  possible  event.  Deceiving 
themselves  with  vain  hopes,  willfully  ignorant  of  the 
truth  of  God,  unmindful  of  the  wi-ath  to  come,  and  with 
no  effort  to  flee  from  it,  they  felt  safe,  and  made  sure 
of  future  blessedness. 

But  this  delusion  can  comfort  them  no  longer.  Their 
hopes  of  escaping  are  swept  away  like  the  spider's  web, 
and  they  are  confounded  by  their  own  experience  of 
the  realities  of  death  and  eternal  judgment. 

Let  us  sketch  some  of  the  characters  that  are  doomed 
to  this  woeful  disappointment. 

*  ExoA  XV.  25. 


132  THE   NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

The  ribald  infidel^  who  defied  the  truth  of  Heaven, 
and  made  God  a  liar  ;  who,  in  the  face  of  all  evidence, 
trampled  Jesns  under  foot  as  a  vile  impostor,  and  in- 
sulted the  blood  of  the  Covenant  as  a  disgusting  pool 
from  the  shambles  ;  he,  even  he  now  comes  to  find  that 
Lamb  of  God  upon  the  throne — that  despised  cross- 
bearer  raised  up  to  judge  the  world.  And  whither  shall 
he  turn  to  hide  himself  from  that  eye  which  darts  its 
angry  fires  *  upon  the  cowering  malignant  who  once 
dared  to  take  up  that  blasphemous  watch-word  of  unbe- 
lieving hate,  "  crush  the  wretch  /" 

The  worTcer  of  iniquity^  who  defied  the  law  of  God,  as 
an  unreasonable  restraint,  and  contemned  the  warning 
of  retribution,  as  the  dream  of  fanaticism,  is  now  con- 
fronted with  that  law,  and  made  to  feel  that  the  wrath 
of  God  is  revealed  from  heaven  against  all  ungodliness 
of  men.  He  feels  that  utterly  unfit  to  dwell  with  God, 
he  has  no  other  portion  than  that  which  has  been  pre- 
pared for  the  fearful  and  the  unbelieving,  and  the 
abominable,  and  murderers,  and  whoremongers,  and 
sorcerers,  and  idolaters,  and  all  liars,  who  have  their 
part  in  the  lake  that  burneth  with  fire  and  brimstone ; 
which  is  the  second  death.f 

The  worldling^  who  gave  himself  up  to  the  lust  of  the 
flesh,  and  the  lust  of  the  eye,  and  the  pride  of  life ;  who 
deemed  this  barren  earth  sufficient  bliss,  and  pursued 
all  his  pleasure  amid  its  pomps  and  gaieties,  and  planned 
and  provided  for  them,  as  if  this  were  the  true  aim  of 
life — and  who  perchance  expected  that  after  such  a 
frivolous  and  sensual  existence  here,  he  would  enter 
upon  some  corresponding  enjoyment  hereafter;  or  it 
may  be,  never  thought  of  the  future,  and  was  content  to 
think  that  death  is  an  eternal  sleep  ;  he  too,  now  finds  him- 

*  Rev.  vi.  17.  f  Rev.  xxi.  8. 


TEARS    AT   THE   JUDGMENT.  133 

self  alive  and  conscious — ^but  it  is  in  hell,  in  tlie  midst 
of  torment ; — and  while  vainly  imploring  tlfat  even  some 
poor  Lazarus,  whom  here  he  despised,  may  be  sent  with 
but  one  drop  of  water  to  cool  his  tongue — ^that  tongue  so 
dainty  once  and  delicate,  now  parched  with  torment  o± 
ever  burning  lust, — ^lie  is  met  with  the  rebuke,  that  in 
his  life-time  he  received  his  good  things,  and  as  he 
sought  no  other,  he  is  justly  left  to  his  proper  and 
chosen  reward.  Torn  away  from  the  world  to  which  he 
bound  himself,  his  idol  and  his  portion  lost,  his  gods 
gone,  his  riches  fled,  his  joys  worn  out,  his  honors  faded 
— ^there  is  none  poor  enough  to  do  him  homage — and 
what  has  he  left,  but  the  devouring  flame  and  the 
unavailing  sorrow? 

The  man  who  indulged  a  Jiojpe  of  mercy^  such  as  the 
gosjpel  never  published — who  Avould  not  repent — who 
deemed  it  useless  to  believe  in  Christ  and  follow  him ; 
who,  it  may  be,  had  read  the  gospel  backward,  and 
thought  that  the  blood  of  the  cross  by  its  mere  overflow 
had  quenched  the  fires  of  perdition ;  and  so,  insulted  that 
atonement  which  he  plead  as  the  sanction  of  his  resolved 
depravity,  and  dishonored  and  degraded  Christ,  by 
making  him  the  minister  of  sin ;  or  who,  at  all  events, 
comforted  himself  with  the  thought  that  God  would  be 
merciful  at  the  last,  to  all  men  without  exception ;  he 
too  finds  out  the  guilt  and  ruin  of  this  enormous  mis- 
take. He  sees,  now,  but  all  too  late,  when  the  face  of 
God  is  set  against  him,  that  he  is  a  holy  God,  and  that 
while  the  offended  Sovereign  does  indeed  sliow  mercy, 
he  shows  it  in  a  peculiar  way,  wherein  his  justice 
blends  with  grace,  and  displays  his  manifold  wisdom. 
He  sees  that  God  pardons  sinners,  only  for  Christ's  sake, 
and  only  as  they  are  reconciled  to  God,  by  coming  to 
Him  through  the  cross,  and  by  repenting  of  their  sins. 
He  finds  now,  as  he  witnesses  the  administration  of 


134  THE   NEW   YORK    PULPIT. 

justice  and  mercy  at  these  grand  assizes,  that  he  has  all 
along  been  insulting  that  mercy  which  he  professed  to 
trust — rejecting  that  Saviour  whose  grace  he  had  dis- 
paraged with  his  own  opprobrious  praise,  and  trampling 
under  foot  that  blood  of  the  Covenant,  which  Jesus  shed 
to  save  his  people  from  their  sins ;  and  conscious  of  his 
own  unpardoned,  unrenewed  condition,  he  departs  to 
realize  the  truth  and  righteousness  of  that  sentence — 
"  He  that  believeth  and  is  baptized  shall  be  saved,  and 
he  that  believeth  not  shall  be  damnea." 

The  self-righteous  man^  who  spurned  the  charges  of 
his  sinfulness,  and  indignantly  disclaimed  his  need  of  a 
Saviour ;  who  expected  to  be  justified  on  the  ground  oi 
his  own  merit,  his  just  and  blameless  life ;  what  views 
has  he  now,  of  sin,  and  of  his  own  goodness,  and  of  the 
way  of  salvation  ?  He  had  heard  from  Paul  the  confes- 
sion, "I  was  alive  without  the  law  once,  but  when  the 
commandment  came,  sin  revived  and  I  died ;"  and  from 
David,  "  I  have  seen  an  end  of  all  perfection,  but  thy 
commandment  is  exceeding  broad ;"  and  from  holy  Job, 
''I  have  heard  of  Tliee  by  the  hearing  of  the  ear,  but 
now  mine  eye  seeth  Thee,  wherefore  I  abhor  myself,  and 
repent  in  dust  and  ashes."  But,  though  Paul  and  David, 
and  Job  preached  to  him  from  their  own  experience,  he 
would  not  receive  their  testimony,  nor  admit  the  convic- 
tion of  his  sin.  But,  now  the  law  shines  upon  his  con- 
science and  his  heart,  with  a  brightness  that  reveals  his 
corruptions,  and  speaks  forth  its  holy  demands  with  a 
voice  like  that  which  made  Israel  at  the  foot  of  Sinai 
tremble  and  entreat  that  they  might  hear  it  no  more. 
He  looks  upon  those  robes  of  self-righteousness  wdiich 
he  had  folded  around  him  so  complacently,  and  lo !  they 
are  as  filthy  rags.  The  bed  is  shorter  than  that  a  man 
may  stretch  himself  upon  it,  and  the  covering  is  too 
narrow  to  wrap  himself  in  it.     His  loathsome  nakedness 


TEARS    AT   THE   JUDGMENT.  135 

cannot  escape  his  own  eye,  mucli  less  that  eye  of  the 
Judge  which  is  as  a  flame  of  fire.  And  who  is  the 
Judge?  It  is  that  same  Jesus,  the  Lord  our  Righteous- 
ness, who  now  requites  tlie  injuries  with  which  human 
pride  disparaged  his  atoning  work ;  and  who,  impartial 
and  just,  as  he  is  merciful  and  gracious,  convicts  and 
condemns  the  sinner  who  would  have  plead  his  own 
goodness  as  his  justification  for  rejecting  Christ  and  his 
Cross.  He  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  Christ's  sal- 
vation, and  Christ  has  nothing  to  do  with  him.  He  is 
taken  at  his  own  choice.  The  law  he  trusted  denounces 
him ;  but  convinced  too  late,  and  finding  no  place  for 
repentance  though  he  seek  it  carefully  with  tears,  he 
knows  what  it  is  to  be  "accursed  from  that  Christ"  whose 
vengeance  he  had  braved  till  death,  whose  anathema  he 
was  not  afraid  to  hazard. 

Sore,  too,  will  be  the  disappointment  of  the  man  whose 
hope  of  heawen  was  fed  upon  the  sins  of  GocPs  people. 
What  wretched  offal  is  this  to  feed  a  soul  upon.  He 
has  fancied  or  suspected  ill,  where  no  ill  was ;  sometimes 
invented  it,  and  nourishedhimself  upon  the  slaughter  of 
their  good  name ;  misjudged  their  real  offences  and  im- 
perfections ;  or,  to  put  the  matter  at  the  worst,  beheld 
their  insincerities  and  hypocrisies ;  and  feeding  his  heart 
with  these,  was  content  to  make  no  effort  to  attain  to 
piety  and  holiness  for  himself.  But  now  he  finds  that 
the  false  professor,  with  whose  trangressions  he  had 
thought  to  bridge  his  own  way  over  the  yawning  gulf 
of  hell,  is  damned ;  the  blind  follower  of  blind  leaders 
falls  into  the  same  abyss ;  and  both  the  stumbling-block, 
and  he  that  stumbled  over  it,  are  doomed  alike,  and  per- 
ish together  in  the  same  fire.  He  that  would  be  wise  must 
be  wise  for  himself,  and  he  that  will  be  foolish  must  bear 
it  himself;  and  while  the  righteous  scarcely  are  saved, 
he  who  has  eaten  up  their  sins  as  bread,  has  been  feed- 


136  THE   NEW    YORK   PULPIT. 

ing  on  tlie  wind,  and  regaling  himself  with  corraption ; 
and  while  his  deceived  heart  was  thus  turning  him  aside, 
it  was  to  his  own  loss,  and  he  cannot  deliver  his  soul. 

And  the  formalist  in  religion  who  trusted  to  a  bare 
profession,  to  Shibboleths  and  rites  and  sacraments,  but 
never  set  himself  to  purify  his  heart  from  its  iniquity, 
nor  to  do  jnstly,  love  mercy,  and  walk  humbly  with 
Qocl^ — though  but  now  he  urged  with  such  confidence, 
"Hast  thou  not  taught  in  our  streets,  and  have  we  not 
eaten  and  drunk  in  thy  presence?" — is  fain  at  last  to 
understand  that  the  servant  who  knew  his  master's  will 
and  did  it  not,  shall  be  beaten  with  many  stripes,  and  that 
the  kingdom  of  God  is  not  meat  and  drink,  but  righte- 
ousness and  peace,  and  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost;  and  to 
his  appeal  for  entrance  into  the  joy  of  the  Lord,  there 
comes  this  w^ithering  reply,  "  I  never  knew  you ;  depart 
from  me,  ye  workers  of  iniquity."  * 

And  also,  he  who  met  the  urgent  call  of  the  gospel  with 
i7idolent  procrastination ;  he  now  realizes  how  fallacious 
were  the  hopes  and  resolutions  with  which  he  postponed 
repentance,  till  some  more  convenient  season.  That 
season  never  came.  While  he  revolved  the  purpose  ot 
future  conversion,  and  meanwhile  continued  impenitent, 
adding  iniquity  unto  iniquity,  his  delays  did  not  retard 
the  coming  ruin.  Judgment  did  not  linger ;  damnation 
did  not  slumber.  Cut  short  in  his  career,  he  was  driven 
away  in  the  midst  of  his  wickedness ;  and  he  awoke 
from  his  delusive  dream  of  protracted  reformation,  only 
to  find  that  he  had  been  laying  up  wrath  against  the  day 
of  wrath,  and  provoking  till  it  was  exhausted,  the 
abused  forbearance  and  patience  of  his  justly  offended 
Creator. 

And  there  is  yet  another  :  the  awalcened  sinner^  who 

*  Luke  xiii.  2G-28  ;    Matthew  vii.  22,  23. 


TEARS   AT   THE   JUDGMENT.  137 

with  anxious  concern,  inquired  what  he  must  do  to  be 
saved  ?  How  near  he  seemed  to  the  kingdom  of  God. 
Hope  and  fear  were  awakened  for  him,  and  hope  and 
fear  struggled  together  in  his  own  breast.  But  for  all 
this  conflict,  there  was  no  issue  in  true  peace.  He  hesi- 
tated, he  distrusted,  he  did  not  close  with  Christ,  he 
turned  back.  He  remained  fearful  and  unbelieving. 
Like  that  interesting  young  man  who  drew  back  from 
Christ — sorrowfully  enough,  indeed — because  of  his  too 
great  love  of  worldly  wealth  ;  like  Lot's  wife,  already  on 
her  way  from  Sodom,  yet  pausing  to  look  back  regret- 
ting;— ^he  looked  back  too  fondly  upon  the  attractions  of 
that  world  from  which  he  should  have  escaped  as  for  his 
life.  And  while  he  lingered,  he  lost  his  spiritual  con- 
cern, and  the  storm  came  and  swept  him  away.  He 
sees  now  the  evil  result.  The  slighted  calls,  the  resisted 
influences,  the  strivings  of  God's  Spirit  that  he  so  madly 
quenched,  all  rise  before  him  ;  and  now  that  he  is  cast 
into  the  outer  darkness,  he  endures  once  more  those 
terrors  of  the  Lord  which,  had  he  improved  them  when 
he  felt  them  in  his  lifetime,  would  have  led  him  to  sal- 
vation. He  feels  them  now,  renewed  with  tenfold 
power,  but  they  are  associated  with  no  call  to  repent- 
ance, no  offer  of  pardon,  no  hope  of  mercy.  They  are 
renewed  indeed,  and  renewed  for  ever — ^liowever  often 
he  had  laid  them  asleep,  however  long  he  fought  against 
them,  till  they  departed  ;  and  as  he  persisted  in  trifling 
with  the  day  of  grace  in  which  they  visited  him  in  mer- 
cy, so  now  they  have  returned  upon  him,  but  it  is  only 
to  produce  in  his  soul  the  overwhelming  conviction  that 
the  mercies  of  God  are  clean  gone  from  him  forever. 

Sad  and  sorrowful  must  be  the  disappointment  of  all 
these  on  that  day,  and  sore  the  weeping  for  their 
melancholy  loss.  Sometimes  perhaps  they  had  feared 
how  it  miffht  sro  with  them.     But  their  solicitude  was 


138  THE   NEW   YORK    PULPIT. 

transitory  and  inefficient.      And  on  the  whole,  they 
thought  and  hoped  they  would  inherit  heaven. 

But  now,  they  are  thrust  out.  Tliey  are  conscious  of 
their  fate.  It  has  come.  They  have  an  overwhelming 
conviction  that  there  is  a  heaven  of  holiness  and  joy, 
but  in  it  is  no  place  prepared  for  them.  They  have  an 
overwheming  conviction  that  there  is  indeed  a  deep  and 
dreadful  hell,  and  it  is  prepared  for  their  eternal  abode. 
They  cannot  doubt  it  now.  The  gates  of  the  new  Jerusalem 
are  closed  against  them,  and  all  its  glorious  light  with- 
drawn ;  the  company  of  the  redeemed  are  gone  in  ;  the 
songs  of  melody  die  in  the  ear  of  the  lost,  and  they  are 
shut  out  to  despair.  The  lurid  flame  of  the  pit  can  be 
descried ;  the  surges  of  the  burning  lake  roar  in  their 
ears,  and  they  hear  the  wail  of  perdition.  They  are 
hm-ried  onward  with  the  crowd  of  the  condemned 
whither  the  yawning  gates  remain  wide  open  only  till 
they  enter  in, — then  to  be  shut  with  dreadful  clang,  by 
that  arm  which  holds  the  keys  of  hell  and  of  death.  And 
they  shall  go  no  more  out. 

Now,yb/'  the  jiTst  time^  they  vividly  realize  the  cer- 
tain loss  of  hope.  The  conviction  is  irresistible.  They 
see,  they  feel  that  the  ruin  of  the  soul  has  come  upon  them ; 
and  no  illusion  can  ever  more  deceive  them  with  fond 
expectation ;  no  gracious  overtures,  so  often  spurned,  be 
offered  for  ever  more ;  no  effort  of  fancy  can  destroy  the 
painful  consciousness  that  the  ruin  is  real — the  loss  com- 
plete— the  doom  final. — "  And  there  shall  be  weeping." 

n.  This  fearful  sense  of  loss  shall  be  aggravated 

BY   THE    THOUGHT    OF    THE    MISERABLE    COMPENSATION    FOR 
THE   SAKE   OF   WHICH    THEY    INCURRED    IT. 

What  has  sin  cost  ?  It  should  be  very  precious,  when 
it  is  held  at  such  a  tremendous  price.  But  how  is  it  valued 
now  by  those  who  liave  paid  so  dear  for  it?  Hear  them, 
while  they  review  their  bargain  and  estimate  their  pnr- 


TEARS   AT   THE   JUDGMENT.  139 

chase :  "  For  the  sake  of  those  fleeting  pleasures  which  so 
often  left  a  sting  behind ;  for  that  vain  bauble,  and  those 
empty  honors  that  were  nothing  more  solid  than  the 
breath  of  men  ;  for  those  heaps  of  gold  that  corroded  in 
my  hand,  and  fled  away  on  wings ;  for  the  fear  of  a 
little  self-denial ;  to  please  a  friend,  who  cannot  help 
me  now ;  to  preserve  my  indolent  ease ;  for  pride  and 
ungodliness  ;  for  a  portion  in  that  world  which  is  burn- 
ing up  before  my  eyes ;  for  these !  I  was  willing  to 
forego  all  serious  thought,  and  encounter  the  risk  of 
this  dreadful  perdition  !  For  these^  I  have  lost  yonder 
shining  heavens,  those  golden  streets,  those  rivers  of 
pleasures,  those  angelic  companions,  and  those  melo- 
dious songs  and  welcome  plaudits,  those  seats  of  bliss, 
that  everlasting  rest !  Yes ;  for  these  miserable  and 
destructive  vanities,  I  have  lost  my  soul,  and  lost  my 
God  and  Saviour !  To  avoid  tears  of  penitence  and 
tribulations  for  Christ's  sake  in  the  earth,  I  have  pur- 
chased eternal  indignation  and  wrath,  tribulation  and 
anguish  ;  and  the  tears  I  am  now  shedding — ah  !  they 
shall  flow  forever  from  my  weeping  eyes  !  I  have  got 
my  portion — ^I  have  obtained  my  reward — ^my  damna- 
tion is  come !"  Ah !  how  bitter  will  it  be  to  reflect, 
"  This  is  the  portion  I  have  chosen  for  myself!" 

"  So  the  struck  eagle  stretched  upon  the  plain, 
No  more  thro'  rolling  clouds  to  soar  again, 
Views  his  own  feather  on  the  fatal  dart, 
And  winged  the  shaft  that  quivers  in  his  heart. 
Keen  are  his  pangs — but  keener  far  to  feel 
He  nursed  the  pinion  which  impelled  the  steel ; 
While  the  same  plumage  that  had  warmed  his  nest, 
Drinks  the  last  life-drop  from  his  bleeding  breast." 


m.  To  THESE  CONSIDERATIONS  MAY  WELL  BE  ADDED, 
THAT  CAUSE  OF  SORROW  WHICH  WILL  ARISE  FROM  THE 
SEPARATIONS   WHICH   WILL    THEN    TAKE    PLACE. 


140  THE   NEW   YORK    PULPIT. 

I  do  not  design  to  enlarge  upon  tins  thought.  I  would 
only  remind  you  how  friends  and  families  are  divided  by 
death,  and  how  painful  is  the  separation  of  those  whose 
lives  are  bound  up  in  each  other.  But  there  are  already 
divisions  of  moral  character,  and  a  difference  between 
the  most  intimate  associates,  as  they  are  either  righteous 
or  wicked,  which  portend  an  eternal  difference  of  des- 
tiny, an  everlasting  separation,  wide  as  Heaven  and 
Hell.  Alas  !  these  divisions  exist  between  the  dearest 
relations  :  between  husband  and  wife,  between  parents 
and  children,  between  brother  and  sister.  They  are 
apparent  in  their  different  course  of  life  ;  they  disclose 
themselves  in  the  sanctuary  and  at  the  communion- 
table. Oh  !  my  friends,  is  this  to  be  so  forever  ?  Are 
these  separations  ominous  of  those  which  will  take  place 
between  you  at  the  last  day?  Certain  it  is  that  the 
samt  and  the  sinner  will  be  parted  from,  each  other  then. 
And  shall  you  be  parted  then  ?  Shall  these  parents,  and 
companions,  and  children,  now  dear  to  each  other,  here, 
be  awarded,  some  of  them  to  life  eternal,  and  some  of  them 
to  everlasting  woe  ?  And  then,  when  a  wide  and  impas- 
sable gulf  is  to  be  fixed  between  them,  will  there  not  be 
lamentation  and  weeping  before  the  judgment  seat  of 
Christ? 

Imagine,  if  you  can,  the  sorrow  of  that  most  conscious 
hour.  Have  you  never  felt  how  appalling  a  conviction 
is  produced  by  the  experience  of  some  unforeseen,  or 
even  by  some  dreaded,  calamity  ?  When  it  came,  it 
came  suddenly.  Though  you  felt  it  a  thousand  times  in 
the  anticipations  of  your  fear,  yet  when  it  came  in 
reality,  the  blow  was  overwhelming.  Was  it,  when 
you  stood  by  the  couch  of  that  beloved  one,  fearing,  yet 
watching,  for  the  last  breath  which  was  too  surely  at 
hand  ?  And  yet,  striving  to  cherish  hope  against  hope, 
not  even  realizing,  though  you  knew,  that  recovery  was 


TEAKS    AT   THE   JUDGMENT.  141 

impossible?  And  then  came  the  moment  when  that 
gasping  ceased,  the  heaving  form  lay  still,  and  the  seal 
of  death  was  stamped  upon  the  brow.  Yon  stood  stupe- 
fied ;  then  came  the  sense  of  blank  desolation ;  the 
blood  rushed  back  upon  your  heart,  appalled  and 
frozen  by  the  overwhelming  certainty.  It  was  present 
in  every  reflection.  It  was  renewed  in  the  night- 
watches.  And  it  was  this  certainty,  of  consciousness 
and  experience,  that  sharpened  your  pain — this  was  the 
acuteness  of  your  grief,  the  reflection  that  cut  its  way  to 
your  inmost  heart  and  soul — "  I  shall  see  my  beloved 
no  more !"  and,  you  wept — oh,  how  you  wept ! — ^What, 
then,  must  be  the  feeling  of  that  solemn  hour,  when 
men  shall  realize  the  gains  and  losses  which  your  whole 
life-time  has  accumulated  for  eternity  ;  when  death  and 
iudgment  shall  wind  up  the  account  of  probation,  and 
award  to  the  speechless,  conscious,  reprobate  that  por- 
tion his  iniquity  has  earned,  that  certainty  of  everlasting 
ruin  which  he  can  never  more  deny,  nor  shake  off  from 
his  despairing  heart. 

"  It  shall  be  even  as  when  an  hungry  man  dreameth, 
and  behold  he  eateth ;  but  he  awaketh,  and  his  soul  is 
empty  ;  or,  as  when  a  thirsty  man  dreameth,  and  behold 
he  drinketh ;  but  he  awaketh,  and  behold,  he  is  faint, 
and  his  soul  hath  appetite."* 

Even  from  the  visions  of  the  night,  when  deep  sleep 
falleth  upon  men,  you  may  obtain  some  impression  of 
the  feelings  which  will  accompany  the  certainty  of  your 
losses,  at  that  last  day.  Perhaps,  you  have  waked  up 
in  the  night,  under  the  intense  emotion  of  some  affect- 
ing dream,  and  found  yourself  weeping.  Some  great 
disaster  had  happened  in  your  sleeping  fancy,  some 
irretrievable  calamity,  some  bitter,  hopeless  grief,  some 
peril  you  could  not  escape  ;  and  it  so  pressed  upon  your 

*  Isaiah  xxix.  8. 


142  THE   NEW   YORK    PULPIT. 

lieart  that  it  unsealed  the  fountains  of  tender  sorrow, 
and  you  waked  up  in  tears.*  How  unspeakable  was 
your  relief  when  you  became  conscious  that  it  was  all  a 
dream. — But  if  you  could  feel  such  bitterness  of  distress 
under  the  mere  fancy  of  your  sleeping  hours,  what  must 
it  be  to  start  up,  not  to  exchange  the  weeping  of  a 
di-eaming  hour  for  the  sober  certainty  of  waking  bliss, 
but  from  the  dreams  of  sin  and  the  sleep  of  death,  to 
meet  your  God  in  judgment,  and  to  exchange  all  your 
delusions  and  unrealities  for  the  waking  certainty  of 
eternal  damnation ! 

Yea,  on  the  other  hand,  it  has  sometimes  happened 
to  you,  when  you  had  some  real  distress,  that  you  gained 
a  temporary  forgetfulness  in  sleep  ;  and  your  dreams 
were  visited  with  visions  of  the  loved  ones  you  had  lost. 
But  the  joy  was  too  great  to  last,  too  ecstatic  to  allow 
you  to  repose.  You  open  your  eyes,  and  with  quick 
and  agonizing  consciousness,  the  pang  shoots  instant 
through  your  heart,  and  you  are  held  in  the  grasp  of  the 
sad  reality.  You  would  persuade  yourself  that  it  is  but 
a  dream.  But,  yon  vacant  couch — ^that  empty  chair — 
those  unused  implements  of  work  or  pastime — the  silence 
of  the  deserted  chamber — and  the  piercing  recollections 
of  the  hour  when  you  laid  the  loved  one  in  the  grave — 
these  will  not  let  you  believe  it.  And,  again,  your  woe 
bursts  forth  as  if  your  very  heart  would  break  with 
agony. 

Well  might  one,  from  the  midst  of  such  experiences 
as  these,  send  forward  the  serious  thought,  to  mingle 
with  the  scenes  of  the  last  day,  and  in  their  contempla- 
tion to  anticipate  something  of  your  possible  experiences 
there  :  "  What  if,  after  all,  I  should  stand  at  that  bar 
condemned  ?  What,  if  in  that  hour  I  must  relinquish 
all  hope,  and  turn  away,  bidding  an  eternal  farewell  to 

*  Such  was  the  origin  of  this  discourse. 


TEAKS    AT   THE   JUDGMENT.  143 

all  I  loved,  or  thought  to  enjoy — to  part  from  lover  and 
friend — to  part  from  the  saints  in  light  and  the  angelic 
company — to  part  from  God  and  Heaven,  from  Jesus 
and  his  salvation — and  to  go  away  weeping  from  the 
presence  of  that  Saviour  who  wipes  away  all  tears  from 
his  people's  faces."  Oh  !  bitter,  bitter  thought !  Pain- 
ful, but  salutary  now,  while,  as  yet,  the  reality  is  a 
future  thing,  and  we  ^re  still  the  prisoners  of  hope. 

Let  us  weep  now,  that  we  may  not  weep  then.  Not 
for  our  earthly  sorrows,  but  for  our  sins.  N'ot  with  the 
sorrow  of  the  world  that  worketh  death,  but  with  that 
godly  repentance  which  is  unto  life — those  tears  of  con- 
trition which  are  shed  at  the  cross  of  our  dying  and 
atoning  Lord.*  Fall  at  his  feet,  and  plead  his  compas- 
sion ;  and  his  smile  shall  light  your  face  with  gladness. 
Go  to  him,  now,  like  that  weeping  sinner  who  ap- 
proached him  in  the  house  of  Simon  at  Capernaum, 
when  with  throbbing,  bursting  heart,  she  pressed  her 
lips  to  his  feet,  bedewed  them  with  her  tears,  and  wiped 
them  with  the  hairs  of  her  head.  Holy  men  would  have 
repelled  her,  as  too  vile  to  touch  his  sacred  person. 
Did  he  repel  her  ?     Did  he  repel  her  ? 

"  In  the  sky,  after  tempest,  as  shineth  the  bow  ; 

In  the  glance  of  the  sun-beam,  as  melteth  the  snow ; 
He  looked  on  that  lost  one,  her  sins  were  forgiven, 
And  Mary  went  forth  in  the  beauty  of  Heaven." 

*  Zech.  xii.  10. 


TEUE    EEPENTANCE. 

BY  WILLIAM  HAGUE,  D.D., 

Pastor  of  Lemngion  Avenue  BapUnt  Church. 

Repentance  from  dead  works. — Hebrews  vi.  1. 

This  phrase  forms  a  part  of  a  remarkable  paragraph 
which  was  intended  by  the  writer  of  the  Epistle  to  the 
Hebrews  as  a  brief  summary  of  those  "  first  truths  " 
which  were  boldly  commended  to  the  attention  of  all 
men,  by  the  apostolic  preachers  of  Christianity.  We 
have  here  a  lucid  statement  of  six  elementary  principles 
which  were  always  proclaimed  by  Christ's  first  disciples, 
both  to  Jews  and  Pagans,  in  such  a  way  as  to  show  that 
they  constitute  the  very  alphabet  of  Christian  teaching. 
Mark  well,  I  pray  you,  this  primitive  form  of  the  Apos- 
tle's creed ;  this  brief  enunciation  of  those  first  truths 
which  agitated  nations,  broke  the  moral  slumbers  of  a 
guilty  world,  and  introduced  a  new  religious  era,  which 
is  yet  advancing  to  its  glorious  consummation.  Not  a 
minute  is  required  for  their  repetition;  they  lay  no 
heavy  burden  upon  the  memory.  "Repentance  from 
dead  works,  faith  toward  God,  the  doctrine  of  bap- 
tisms (or  an  open  profession)^  laying  on  of  hands  (or 
the  gifts  of  the  Spirit),  resurrection  of  the  dead,  and 
eternal  judgment ;"  these  were  the  themes  which  the 
first  heralds  of  our  religion  proclaimed  with  all  autho- 
rity, with  great  simplicity  of  speech,  and  with  power 
from  on  high.     Whosoever  received  these  truths  with  a 

144 


TRUE    REPENTANCE.  145 

cordial  welcome,  and  proved  his  sincerity  by  an  obedient 
life,  was  hailed  as  a  Christian,  a  child  of  God,  and  an 
heir  of  heaven  ;  but  whosoever  heard  and  rejected 
them,  ratified  anew  every  sin  that  he  had  committed, 
and  deliberately  incurred  the  fearful  doom  that  over- 
hangs the  path  of  the  transgressor. 

It  is  my  desire,  friends  and  hearers,  to  fix  your 
thoughts  upon  the  first  of  these  first  truths  which  were 
sounded  forth  of  old  in  the  ministry  of  the  Apostles. 
The  efficient  progress  of  religion  in  every  age,  all  the 
real  and  permanent  triumphs  of  the  gospel,  have  been 
achieved  by  the  simj)le  force  of  these  ''first  truths," 
brought  into  contact  with  the  minds  and  hearts  of  the 
people.  You  well  know  that  it  was  so  in  those  days 
when  the  greatest  moral  revolution  which  human  his- 
tory records  was  produced  by  the  ministry  of  Galilean 
fishermen.  So  it  was,  also,  at  the  period  of  the  great 
Keformation,  when  Europe  was  convulsed  by  the  words 
of  a  poor  Saxon  monk  ;  when  the  masses  of  the  people 
thronged  around  Luther  and  his  coadjutors,  as  if  they 
had  been  angels  from  heaven,  commissioned  to  reveal 
the  mind  of  God  to  men.  So  it  was,  too,  in  the  age  of 
Whitefield  and  Wesley,  when  a  paralyzing  religious  For- 
malism had  overspread  the  whole  of  England,  and  when, 
to  a  great  extent,  its  deadly  spell  was  broken  by  the  sim- 
ple preaching  of  the  gospel.  Had  the  chief  agents  of 
that  spiritual  renovation,  had  Whitefield  and  Wesley 
sprung  from  the  ranks  of  Evangelical  Dissenters,  or  from 
the  ranks  of  converted  Komanists,  they  might  have  been 
tempted  to  expend  their  force  upon  the  themes  of  eccle- 
siastical controversy  ;  but,  as  if  for  the  very  purpose  of 
raising  up  an  order  of  Evangelists  who  should  devote 
all  their  energies  to  the  promulgation  of  the  first  truths 
of  religion  among  the  English  people,  these  men  were 
called  forth  from  the  bosom  of  the  Established  Church 


146  THE   NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

itself.  And  so,  moreover,  in  later  times,  within  tlie 
sphere  of  our  own  observation,  those  revivals  of  reli- 
gion that  have  been  to  many  communities  "  as  life  from 
the  dead,"  have  been  commenced,  and  carried  for- 
ward, by  the  inculcation  of  these  "  first  truths,"  which 
the  plainest  man  may  apprehend,  which  send  their  ap- 
peals to  every  conscience,  and  rouse  the  soul  of  every 
individual  to  immediate  action,  in  view  of  its  relation, 
as  an  immortal  being,  to  God  and  eternity. 

But,  then,  alas !  how  formidable  are  the  obstacles  that 
resist  the  power  of  these  "  first  truths,"  and  render  the 
mind  unaccessible  to  their  approach  !  From  early  youth 
the  terms  that  are  used  to  express  them  have  become 
familiar  to  the  ears  of  all  that  are  educated  in  a  Chris- 
tian community,  and  the  habit  of  hearing  them,  without 
any  consideration  of  their  meaning,  issues  in  a  fatal 
insensibility  to  the  appeals  which  they  are  ever  sound- 
ing fortli.  They  fall  upon  the  ears  of  those  who  consti- 
tute what  is  called  a  regular  congregation,  or  assembly 
of  worshippers,  without  arresting  attention;  and  the 
force  of  liabit  is  constantly  strengthening  those  moods 
of  mind  which  are  adverse  to  the  clear  apprehension  of 
the  great  ideas  which  these  terms  signify.  Tlius  they 
are  proclaimed  and  heard  without  the  desired  eflect. 
They  awaken  no  concern  ;  they  call  forth  no  opposition. 
They  are  the  elements  of  a  dead  creed.  They  do  not 
startle  or  even  interest  those  who  admit  them  to  be 
"  the  true  sayings  of  God."  K  I  could  be  permitted  to 
stand  in  a  market-place  of  Rome  or  Vienna,  and  preach 
to  the  gathered  throng  repentance  towards  God  as  a 
"  first  truth  "  of  Christianity,  showing  that  Penance  is 
nothing,  that  Mass  is  nothing,  that  priestly  absolution 
cannot  save  the  soul,  but  that  Christ,  the  Great  High 
Priest,  dispenses  pardon  to  all  who,  with  true  repent- 
ance, come  unto  him,  O,  how  deeply  agitated  would  be 


TRUE   REPENTANCE.  147 

the  whole  commiinity,  like  a  broad  sea  stirred  by  the 
l^assing  tempest!  The  announcement  would  be  met 
with  demonstrations  of  wrath  bj  some,  and  hailed  as 
tidings  of  great  joy  by  others.  And  yet  this  gospel  is 
needed  here  as  urgently  as  it  is  needed  there.  AH  need 
repentance,  because  all  have  sinned.  A  sinful  soul  can 
never  be  saved  without  it.  Will  every  one  here  to-day 
seriously  consider  this  "  first  truth  "  in  relation  to  him- 
self ?  Will  every  one  be  willing  to  commune  with  his 
own  heart,  and  admit  in  converse  with  himself  this 
solemn  truth  :  "  I  must  exercise  true  repentance  in  the 
sight  of  God,  or  be  the  victim  of  sin  for  ever."  Surely 
it  is  so,  friendly  hearer  !  for  you  are  an  immortal  being, 
and  yet  a  sinner ;  sm  is  in  your  nature,  reigning  with 
all  the  force  of  a  physical  law,  and  you  must  be  deliv- 
ered from  its  fatal  power,  or  suffer  the  inevitable  effects 
of  sin  throughout  the  career  of  an  endless  existence. 

What,  then,  let  us  ask,  with  all  simplicity  of  mind, 
and  with  all  earnestness  of  intention — what  is  the  nature 
of  that  change  which  the  gospel  demands  as  being  essen- 
tially requisite  to  your  eternal  happiness  ?  You  perceive 
that  the  chief  term  used  to  designate  it  is  repentance. 
What,  then,  is  rej)entance  ?  In  answering  this  question, 
I  observe : 

1.  That  the  simple  meaning  of  that  word,  which  was 
so  familiar  to  the  lips  of  the  first  preachers  of  the  gosj^el, 
is  "•  a  change  of  mind."  Whensoever  the  term  metanoia^ 
which  was  usually  employed  by  the  apostles  to  designate 
this  change,  fell  upon  the  ear  of  a  Greek,  it  was  always 
imderstood  to  denote  some  kind  of  conversion.  His  idea 
of  the  nature  of  the  change  intended  would  be  naturally 
modified  by  the  connection  in  which  the  word  occurred ; 
but  whensoever  it  was  used  by  a  Christicm  teacher,  in 
connection  with  the  startling  narrative  of  his  Master's 
life,  death,  and  resurrection,  it  always  denoted  such  a 


14S  THE    NEW    YORK   PULPIT. 

change  in  one's  habits  of  thought,  feeling,  and  conduct? 
as  constituted  a  necessary  preparation  for  the  heartfelt 
reception  of  Christ  as  the  true  Teacher,  the  only  Saviour, 
and  the  rightful  Sovereign  of  the  soul. 

A  Pagan  Greek,  therefore,  no  more  than  a  Pharisaic 
Jew,  would  ever  have  been  led  honestly  to  ask  of  a  Chris- 
tian preacher,  "What  am  I  to  repent  of?"  or,  "What  am 
I  to  be  changed  unto  ?"  The  claims  of  the  Messiah  j  arred 
so  strongly  against  his  cherished  notions  of  religion, 
they  shook  so  thoroughly  the  whole  fabric  of  his  hopes 
while  they  struck  at  its  very  foundations,  that  he  would 
feel  himself  brouglit  directly  to  an  issue,  and  would  be 
constrained  to  say,  "  I  must  resist  this  new  doctrine  as 
the  chimera  of  fanaticism,  or  else  I  must  yield  to  it  as 
the  very  word  of  the  eternal  God  himself !" 

Hence,  you  will  observe  that  the  word  repentance  in 
the  text  is  joined  to  a  peculiar  phrase  ;  for  the  language 
here  used  is,  "  repentance  from  dead  worksP  All  men 
whom  the  first  heralds  of  the  gospel  addressed  were 
depending  upon  one  or  another  class  of  "works,"  or 
doings,  or  observances,  as  furnishing  grounds  of  mental 
repose,  or  grounds  of  trust  for  happiness  hereafter.  The 
Pharisaic  Jew  was  a  High  Churchman  (strictly  speaking), 
regarding  acceptance  with  God  as  his  birthright,  guaran- 
teed by  the  covenants  of  Abraham,  and  resolved  to  pre- 
serve it  by  a  faithful  keeping  of  the  Mosaic  law.  The 
Pagan  Greek  had  his  routine  of  temple  services,  his 
"  works  of  piety,"  as  they  were  called,  on  account  of 
which  he  expected  the  blessing  of  the  heavenly  powers. 
The  philosophers  paid  outward  respect  to  the  prevailing 
religious  customs,  but  trusted  to  a  life  of  virtue,  accord- 
ing to  the  definitions  of  their  several  schools.  All  men, 
of  almost  every  rank  and  condition,  were  trusting  to 
some  prescribed  set  of  works  as  being  sufiicient  to  insure 
their  spiritual  welfare.     What  a  shock  was  given,  then. 


'IKUK    REPENTANCE.  149 

to  all  these  cherished  hopes,  when  the  gospel  proclaimed 
that  none  of  those  works,  so  firmly  trusted,  had  in  them 
any  vital  principle  of  goodness  that  could  render  them 
acceptable  to  God !  They  could  not  atone  for  sin ;  they 
could  not  renovate  the  heart ;  they  could  not  meet  the 
demands  of  conscience ;  they  were,  therefore,  "  dead 
works,"  lifeless  forms,  alike  miworthy  of  the  regard  of 
God  or  the  confidence  of  man.  Oh,  how  did  priests  and 
people  rage  and  scoff  against  a  gospel  which  required 
of  them  "  a  change  of  mind,"  involving  not  only  a  renun- 
ciation of  their  sins,  but  also  an  utter  abjuration  of  all 
dependence  on  old  and  cherished  grounds  of  trust  like 
these ! 

And  yet,  friends  and  hearers,  just  such  "  a  change  of 
mind  "  the  Gospel  requires  of  us.  For  we,  too,  are  "  by 
nature  "  children  of  the  world,  and  "  children  of  wrath 
even  as  others."  We,  too,  like  Jews  and  Pagans  who 
have  lived  before  us,  acting  out  our  native  character, 
do  trust  in  works  of  one  or  another  sort  in  order  to 
insure  divine  acceptance.  You  may  not  be  saying  with 
the  Pharisee  in  the  temple,  "  I  fast  twice  in  the  week — 
I  give  tithes  of  all  that  I  possess  ;"  and  yet  you  may  be 
pleading  some  other  form  of  goodness,  and  be  disposed 
to  say,  "  God,  I  thank  thee  that  I  am  not  so  bad  as  other 
men."  But  be  assured,  none  of  these  works  or  forms 
of  goodness  meet  in  any  degree  the  demands  of  the 
divine  law  unless  they  have  sprung  from  one  ruling 
principle  of  supreme  love  to  God.  And  that  princi23le 
of  love,  you  know,  has  never  reigned  over  the  elements 
of  your  natural  character,  nor  formed  a  part  of  your 
moral  constitution.  And  if  such  a  principle  had  been 
imparted  to  you  in  your  early  childhood  you  would 
recognize  it  as  a  gift  of  grace,  would  develop  its  power 
in  a  life  of  obedience,  and  would  never  be  disposed  to 
plead   it  as  a  ground  of  meritorious  justification  in 


150  THE    NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

yourself.  This  change  of  mind,  therefore,  this  moral 
renovation,  is  for  every  one  of  us  a  matter  of  urgent 
need,  as  really  as  it  ever  has  been  in  the  case  of  any 
human  being:  that  has  lived  since  sin  entered  into  the 
world.  For,  it  is  evident  at  a  glance  that  if  man  be  a 
fallen  creature  he  can  never  have  anything  like  a  reli- 
gion that  is  acceptable  to  God,  without  true  repentance, 
inasmuch  as  repentance  is  necessarily  the  first  form 
which  love  must  take  in  the  breast  of  a  transgressor.  It 
is  clearly  a  universal  truth,  that  wheresoever  a  heart 
has  become  alienated  from  an  object  that  is  entitled  to 
its  love,  that  heart  can  never  know  the  joy  of  love  again 
without,  sincere  regret  for  its  offence,  without  real 
iiEPr>>;TANCE  in  view  of  that  state  of  mind  wherein  its 
alienation  hath  originated. 

2.  Hence  we  are  led  to  observe  that  the  mental 
change  here  spoken  of  implies  not  merely  a  change  of 
intellectual  views,  of  opinions,  or  of  purposes,  but  it 
imj^lies  also  spontaneous  sorrow  on  account  of  the  nature 
and  evil  of  those  sinful  dispositions,  which  are  the  very 
elements  of  moral  character  and  the  masters  of  action. 
In  the  course  of  human  life  there  are  many  thoughts 
that  obtrude  themselves  upon  one's  mind,  so  as  to 
awaken  the  emotion  of  grief;  they  come  unbidden, 
they  are  unwelcome  visitors,  and  the  scenes  of  worldly 
gaiety  cannot  charm  them  away ;  but  there  is  no  idea 
which  the  mind  can  entertain  that  is  capable  of  pro- 
ducing an  emotion  of  sorrow  more  profound  and  more 
influential  than  the  idea  of  an  utter  unfitness  for  the 
fiivor  of  God.  When  that  thought  is  but  faintly  sug- 
gested, and  flits  within  one's  view  as  only  a  dim  conjec- 
ture, it  difl'uses  around  the  heart  a  cold  and  deadening 
gloom  ;  but  when  it  flashes  through  the  depths  of  the 
soul  with  all  the  force  of  a  realized  conviction,  the 
deepest  springs  of  sorrow  are  unsealed,  and  there  is  no 


TRUE    REPENTANCE.  161 

sorrow  like  unto  that  sorrow.  For  the  feeling  of  which 
we  speak  is  not  akin  to  that  sullen  sadness  with  which  a 
proud  and  rebellious  spirit  yields  to  a  harsh  decree,  nor 
to  that  keen  remorse  which  often  haunts  the  man  who 
would  fain  forget  his  crimes ;  but  it  is  a  sentiment  of 
ingenuous  grief  in  view  of  one's  moral  disqualification 
for  enjoying  the  manifested  presence  of  God  or  the 
society  of  heaven.  If  I  may  illustrate  it  by  means  of  an 
analogy  suggested  by  secular  history,  it  is  a  feeling  akin 
to  that  which  we  can  readily  imagine  would  oppress  the 
heart  of  a  thoughtful  man,  if,  like  the  King  of  Sicily,  he 
should  discover  the  worth  of  such  a  friendship  as  that 
which  was  exemplified  in  the  lives  of  Damon  and 
Pythias,  and,  at  the  same  time,  were  conscious  of  his 
own  utter  unfitness  to  participate  in  its  enjoyment.  In 
that  case,  though  he  were  master  of  a  kingdom,  how 
poor  and  forlorn  would  he  be,  and  with  what  reason 
might  he  bemoan  his  miserable  condition !  He  might 
pray,  as  Dionysius  prayed  Damon  and  Pythias,  that  he 
might  be  welcomed  into  a  covenant  of  friendship  ;  but 
then,  unless  his  heart  were  filled  with  genial  sympa- 
thies, unless  he  were  conscious  of  the  supremacy  of  that 
moral  principle  which  is  the  real  ground  of  mutual  con- 
fidence, he  could  know  nothing  of  friendship  but  the 
name,  and  all  outward  forms  of  welcome  would  be  but 
a  tantalizing  mockery. 

This  momentous  truth  which  I  have  just  uttered,  be  it 
observed,  was  brought  to  view  by  Christ  himself  in  his 
parable  of  the  wedding-garment,  wherein  he  pictures  to 
our  imagination  the  case  of  a  man  at  a  bridal  feast  with- 
out the  suitable  attire  which  the  royal  law  required. 
Be  assured,  O  friendly  hearer,  you  and  I  are  invited  to 
participate  in  the  joys  and  honors  of  a  heavenly  festival. 
But  what  is  meant  by  that  wedding  garment  in  which 
each  one  of  us  must  be  attired  in  order  to  be  welcomed 


162  THE   NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

as  guests  of  Heaven?  I  answer,  in  the  language  of 
Arclier  Butler,  "The  garments  must,  surely,  from  the 
very  nature  of  the  image,  have  been  intended  to  signify 
somethmg  public  and  visible,  in  which  each  wearer  har- 
monizes Avith  all,  and  all  wdth  the  spirit  of  the  peculiar 
scene  into  which  they  are  introduced,  and  to  which  the 
dress  is  appropriate.  This  festal  garment  of  heaven, 
then,  which  each  man  must  bring  with  him  into  the  high 
presence  of  God,  seems  to  be  no  other  than  that  celestial 
temper  which  manifests  itself  by  the  infallible  indica- 
tions of  a  holy  joy — that  spiritual  sympathy  with  the 
things  of  the  623iritual  world  which  exhibits  itself  in 
cordial,  irrepressible  demonstrations  of  the  blessedness 
within;  holy  happiness,  public  and  expressed;  the  'joy 
in  the  Holy  Ghost,'  no  longer  a  secret,  timid,  half- 
uttered  delight,  but  sparkling  in  the  eye,  and  fearless  in 
the  voice ;  the  '  life '  no  longer  '  hid  witli  Christ  in  God,' 
but  'apparent  with  him  in  glory.'  I  repeat  it,  inward 
spiritual  hap2)iness,  developed  by  the  presence  of  God 
and  the  consciousness  of  heaven,  into  visible  manifestor 
tion,  this  is  the  '  wedding  garment '  whicli  Christ  beliolds 
and  approves  in  the  saved."  And  oh !  tell  me,  I  pray 
you,  is  it  possible  that  any  one  can  apprehend  the 
nature  and  worth  of  this  qualification  for  the  divine 
presence,  and,  at  the  same  time,  be  conscious  of  an 
entire  destitution  of  it,  without  one  pang  of  real  sorrow  ? 
Ey  no  means.  You  see  at  a  glance  that  such  a  view  of 
truth  must  produce  ingenuous  grief  You  see  that 
"  repentance  from  dead  works  "  is  not  merely  a  change 
of  mind  in  relation  to  one's  character  and  condition, 
but  a  sincere  regret  in  view  of  the  soul's  fatal  destitu- 
tion of  that  which  is  essential  to  its  welfare,  connected 
with  earnest  longings  for  that  renovation  of  character 
w^hich  God  only  can  impart. 

3.  Hence  let  us  proceed  to  observe,  that  this  repen- 


TRUE    REPENTANCE.  153 

tance  of  whicli  we  speak  is  an  inward  moral  force  which 
produces  a  real  transformation  of  life  and  conduct.  For 
this  "godly  sorrow"  of  which  we  speak  is  not  a  vain 
and  fruitless  emotion.  It  does  not  expend  itself  in  the 
tears,  the  moans,  and  the  nervous  excitements  of  a  bar- 
ren pietism.  As  the  Scripture  saith,  "it  worketh  effec- 
tual reformation"  not  to  be  repented  of."  "Fruits  meet 
for  repentance,"  or  a  course  of  life  and  action  congruous 
with  this  interior  moral  change,  must  surely  follow  this 
ingenuous  sorrow  under  the  light  of  a  gospel  which 
reveals  the  fullness  of  the  divine  mercy  set  forth  by  an 
all-sufficient  atonement.  You  might  conceive  of  such  a 
state  of  feeling  as  repentance  existing  in  a  soul  that 
knew  nothing  of  a  gospel;  but  that  soul  would  sink 
more  and  more  deeply  into  chilling  despondency  for  the 
lack  of  motive-poAver — ^for  the  lack  of  all  moral  strength 
to  resist  temptation,  and  to  realize  its  own  ideas  of  the 
goodness  or  virtue  which  the  divine  law  requires.  But 
to  the  sorrowing  heart  the  gospel  reveals  free  pardon  as 
the  gift  of  God's  munificence  ;  reveals  the  Divine  Spirit 
as  waiting  to  impart  strength ;  reveals  the  sympathetic 
love  of  angels  as  waiting  to  break  forth  into  songs  of 
welcome,  that  shall  hail  the  converted  soul's  accession 
to  the  ranks  of  the  redeemed  ones.  When  the  heart  is 
touched  with  healthful  grief  for  sin,  these  revelations 
reach  its  deepest  springs  of  action,  and  awaken  senti- 
ments of  love  and  gratitude  which  must  express  them- 
selves in  acts  of  joyous  obedience.  Deliverance,  emanci- 
pation, redemption,  freedom,  salvation;  these  are  the 
words  which  fall  like  heavenly  music  upon  the  listen- 
ing ear,  and  furnish  an  adequate  supply  of  motive- 
power  to  meet  the  soul's  most  urgent  wants  :  "  for  what 
the  law  could  not  do  in  that  it  was  weak,"  God,  by 
the  mission  of  His  Son,  has  accomplished;  so  that 
"  the  righteousness  of  the  law  is  fulfilled  in  us  who  walk 


lo4:  THE   NEW   YORK    TDLPIT. 

not  after  the  flesh  but  after  the  Spirit."  The  true  object 
of  life  is  now  clearly  seen ;  a  longing  to  realize  it  is 
now  deeply  felt ;  and  this  great  mental  and  moral 
change  carries  the  witness  with  itself  that  the  man  is 
"  born  again ;"  that  he  is  a  "  new  creature,"  having  been 
translated  from  the  realm  of  darkness  into  light,  from 
the  kingdom  of  the  "wicked  one"  into  that  "of  God's 
dear  Son." 

And  now,  O  friends,  having  called  your  attention  to 
this  "  change  of  mind,"  which  the  early  heralds  of  Chris- 
tianity sounded  forth  as  the  "  first  truth,"  let  me  urge 
upon  you  the  careful  consideration  of  it,  as  being  a  mat- 
ter of  the  greatest  practical  importance.  It  is  one  of 
those  subjects  which  ought  to  be  dismissed  from  the 
thoughts  at  once,  as  undeserving  the  least  regard,  or 
else  it  ought  to  be  seriously  entertained,  in  such  a  way 
as  to  command  immediate  and  effective  action.  Why 
should  a  man  allow  a  theme  like  this,  in  the  form  of  a 
message  from  God,  to  mar  his  peace,  to  disturb  his  slum- 
bers, or  haunt  his  waking  hours,  without  resolving  to 
"  look  it  fairly  in  the  face,"  to  dispose  of  its  demand  in  a 
manner  that  shall  be  final,  satisfactory  to  his  heart  and 
conscience,  never  "  to  be  repented  of  ?"  O,  be  assured, 
when  the  soul  is  once  really  awake  to  its  consideration, 
that  fact  becomes  an  era  of  personal  history  that  must 
inevitably  cast  a  cheering  light  or  deadly  gloom  over 
all  the  future. 

Consider,  I  pray  you,  the  meaning  and  bearing  of  this 
statement.  For  such  an  awakening  of  the  attention  is, 
necessarily,  a  crisis  of  the  inward  life,  and  there  is  only 
one  wise  way  of  meeting  it.  A  man  should  either  con- 
vince himself  that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  "law  of 
sin"  reigning  in  his  moral  constitution,  that  the  ele- 
meiits  of  his  natural  character  are  all  pure  and  good,  so 
that  he  may  safely,  as  the  philosophical  Transcendental- 


TRUE  REPENTAKCE.  155 

ists  say,  "  fall  back  on  nature,"  let  the  reins  of  govern- 
ment play  wantonly  "  on  the  neck  of  the  divine  animal," 
act  freely  out  what  there  is  within  him,  and  brave  the 
consequences  fearlessly  ;  or  else  he  should  confess  that 
there  really  is  a  "  law  of  sin  "  working  in  his  soul  as  a 
fatal  malady ;  and,  while  he  deplores  its  power,  should 
accept  the  only  remedy  that  has  been  provided — ^the 
grace  of  Christ  revealed  to  us  by  the  Gospel.  Unless 
you  iGNOKE  the  very  idea  of  sin,  you  must  come  to  this 
conclusion ;  for  all  who  discern  the  reality  of  sin  ac- 
knowledge that  it  has  in  itself  a  progressive  and  self- 
perpetuating  power ;  that  where  it  has  its  way  in  any 
rational  being  it  must  gain  the  supremacy,  and  that 
wheresoever  it  lives  in  any  human  heart,  it  reigneth  unto 
death,  "  changing  all  down  its  course  each  thing  to  one 
with  its  immortal  nature." 

But,  alas !  we  cannot  so  easily  ignore  the  idea  of  sin, 
unless  it  be  in  some  momentary  fit  of  moral  inebriation, 
for  though  the  benumbing  spell  seem  of  long  continu- 
ance, in  due  time  it  must  be  broken.  You  cannot  en- 
tirely deaden  your  sensibilities  to  a  perception  of  this 
fatal  reality.  Tlie  hour  must  come  when  the  soul  shall 
know  and  feel  that  its  cherished  tastes  and  passions, 
habits  and  aims,  jar  against  the  constitution  of  the  moral 
universe.  And  then,  wheresoever  it  may  be,  that  whole 
universe  will  become  to  it  a  very  hell.  All  its  memo- 
ries and  all  its  anticipations  must  then  be  elements  of 
torture,  preying  upon  its  expanding  capacities  as  con- 
suming and  eternal  fires.  For  we  need  no  Bible  to  teach 
us  the  solemn  truth  which  one  of  the  world's  "own 
poets  "  has  thus  recorded ; 

"  The  mind  that  broods  o'er  guilty  woes, 
Is  like  to  scorpion  girt  by  fire  ; 
The  circle  narrowing  as  it  glows, 
Till  inly  searched  by  thousand  throes, 


156  THE    NEW    YORX    PULPIT. 

And  maddening  in  its  ire, 
One  and  sole  relief  it  knows; 
The  sting  it  nurtured  for  its  foes, 
Whose  venom  ne'er  yet  was  vain. 
Gives  but  one  pang  and  cures  all  pain. 
He  darts  into  his  desperate  brain. 
So  do  the  dark  in  soul  expire, 
Or  live  like  scorpion  girt  by  fire. 
So  writhes  the  mind  remorse  has  riven, 
Unfit  for  earth,  undoomed  to  heaven, 
Darkness  above,  despair  beneath. 
Around  it  flame,  within  it  death." 

"WTien  Lord  Bjron  thus  pictured  forth  in  flaming 
words  the  interior  state  of  the  finally  impenitent,  did 
not  exalted  genius  then  pay  a  tribute,  though  uncon- 
sciously, to  the  worth  of  the  gospel,  and  sound  forth  a 
call  unto  all  men  to  give  ear  to  the  voice  of  mercy, 
which,  through  the  lips  oi  Christ,  speaks  unto  us  from 
Heaven?  Let  not  the  warning  be  in  vain,  for  every 
one  of  us  must  know  the  joy  of  true  repentance,  or  be 
the  victim  of  remorse  forever. 


XI. 
SEEKnTG  THE  LOED  SO  AS  TO  FIND  HIM. 

BY  JOEL  PARKER,  D.D. 

Pastor  of  the  Fourth  Avenue  Presbyterian  Churchy  Nem  York. 

"  Then  shall  ye  call  upon  me,  and  ye  shall  go  and  pray  unto  me,  and  I 
will  hearken  unto  you  ;  And  ye  shall  seek  me  and  find  me  when  ye  shall 
search  for  me  with  all  your  heart." — Jer.  xxix.  12,  13. 

Generosity  ought  always  to  be  exercised  with  discre- 
tion. The  bestowinent  of  gifts  without  a  proper  discri- 
mination becomes  a  wasteful  prodigality,  and  an  indis- 
criminate munificence  to  the  poor  will  do  more  harm  by 
encouraging  indolence  and  pampering  vice,  than  it  will 
do  good  by  relieving  want.  Hence,  those  who  would 
bless  the  needy,  are  called  upon  to  see  to  it  that  they 
incite  to  industry  and  encourage  virtue,  as  well  as 
relieve  want,  by  their  benefactions. 

The  economy  of  divine  grace,  in  this  respect,  aifords 
us  a  perfect  example.  Nothing  can  be  more  absolutely 
a  gift  than  the  favor  of  God,  as  vouchsafed  to  sinful 
men.  And  yet  nothing  is  made  to  depend  more  clearly 
and  certainly  on  human  endeavor.  Indeed,  the  divine 
favor  makes  a  demand  for  effort  of  the  most  strenuous 
sort,  just  because  it  is  a  benefit  of  such  immense  mo- 
ment. They  that  enter  the  difficult  gate  must  strive, 
must  agonize,  to  attain  their  end.  An  entrance  into  the 
heavenly  city  can  be  gained  only  by  an  effort,  the  earn- 
estness of  which  is  represented  by  the  vigorous  action 
of  an  army,  when  they  take  by  storm  a  fortified  town. 

157 


158  THE   NEW    YOKK    PULPIT. 

"The  kingdom  of  heaven  suffereth  violence,  and  the 
violent  take  it  by  force." 

Our  text  is  a  prediction  of  the  return  of  the  visible 
people  of  God  to  a  spiritual  and  happy  state,  after  a  cap- 
tivity of  seventy  years.  In  the  preceding  context  it  is 
said,  "  Thus  saith  the  Lord,  that  after  seventy  years  be 
accomplished  at  Babylon,  I  will  visit  you,  and  perform 
my  good  word  towards  you,  in  causing  you  to  return  to 
this  place.  For  I  know  the  thoughts  that  I  think  to- 
wards you,  saith  the  Lord,  thoughts  of  peace,  and  not 
of  evil,  to  give  you  an  expected  end."  In  the  Hebrew 
it  is,  as  in  the  margin  of  your  large  Bibles,  to  give  you 
an  end  and  an  expectation.  That  is,  to  give  them  an 
end  of  their  captivity  and  troubles,  and  to  create  an 
expectation  of  a  more  happy  state.  Then  the  process  is 
described,  by  which  they  shall  be  brought  back  to  the 
enjoyment  of  spiritual  blessings.  "Then  shall  ye  call 
upon  me."  But  this  is  not  all;  you  shall  do  it  very 
earnestly :  "And  ye  shall  go  and  pray  unto  me."  Even 
this  is  not  all ;  you  shall  seek  for  the  blessing  in  that 
diligent  and  persevering  manner  which  is  represented 
by  searching  for  a  lost  article.  "  And  ye  shall  seek  me 
and  find  me,  when  ye  shall  search  for  me  with  all  your 
heart." 

There  are  two  very  distinct  views  of  seeking,  as 
applied  to  endeavors  after  spiritual  good.  They  are 
characterized  by  the  objects  placed  before  the  mind. 
You  are  sometimes  exhorted  to  seek  religion.  And 
what  is  religion,  in  the  sense  in  which  the  term  is  em- 
ployed in  this  exhortation?  It  is  a  state  of  mind  in 
which  are  exercised  a  sincere  repentance  towards  God, 
and  a  cordial  faith  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  He  that 
exercises  these  dispositions  of  heart,  possesses  religion. 
If  these  sentiments  are  in  lively  exercise,  and  exert  a 
powerful  influence  over  the  subject  of  them,  he  possesses 


SEEKING    TUK    LORD    60    AS    TO    FIND    IIIM.  159 

much  religion ;  if  tliey  are  feeble,  and  exert  little  influ- 
ence, he  has  little  religion.  If  he  has  not  yet  repented 
of  sin,  and  embraced  Christ  by  faith,  he  is  said  to  have 
no  religion.  Observe,  then,  that  this  mode  of  exhorta- 
tion is  addressed  only  to  those  who  are  destitute  of  true 
piety.  The  object  placed  before  them  is  a  certain  state 
of  mind,  and  this  state  of  mind  they  are  urged  to  seek 
for.  Of  course,  they  are  asked  to  seek  it  because  they 
have  it  not.,  They  are  called  upon  while  continuing 
in  a  state  of  alienation  from  God,  to  do  something,  as  a 
means  of  attaining  to  repentance  and  faith. 

The  other  view  of  seeking,  to  which  I  adverted,  places 
a  totally  diflferent  object  before  the  mind,  as  the  thing 
to  be  sought.  That  object  is  God ;  or,  which  is  the  same 
thing,  a  manifestation  of  the  divine  favor.  Instead  of 
making  a  right  state  of  mind  the  object,  and  seeking  for 
that  right  mental  and  spiritual  state,  by  an  endeavor  in 
which  there  are  no  holy  desires,  you  are  called  on  to 
place  God's  favor  before  you  as  the  object,  and  to  seek 
it  by  the  exercise  of  a  sincere  repentance  and  a  genuine 
faith.  Do  you  understand  clearly  this  distinction  ?  Let 
me  state  it  briefly  again.  In  the  one  case  you  are  asked 
to  seek  repentance  and  faith  by  an  endeavor  in  which 
there  is,  of  course,  no  element  of  either  repentance  or 
faith.  If  you  possessed  these  dispositions  you  would  not 
need  to  seek  them.  In  the  other  case  you  are  to  seek 
God,  or  the  divine  favor,  by  repenting  of  sin,  and  believ- 
ing in  Christ.  I  need  scarcely  say,  that  the  latter  is  the 
view  of  the  subject  which  prevails  in  the  Scriptures. 
In  our  text,  God  says,  "  Then  shall  ye  seek  me  and  find 
me,  when  ye  shall  search  for  me  with  all  your  heart." 

To  draw  your  attention  to  the  prevalent  mode  of  rep- 
resenting this  subject,  in  the  sacred  Scriptures,  let  me 
cite,  briefly,  several  passages.  David  says,  in  his  last 
advice  to  Solomon,  "If  thou  seek  the  Lord  he  will  be 


IGO  THE   NEW    YORK    PDI.PIT. 

found  of  thee."  Of  Ilezekiali  it  is  said,  "  That  in  every 
work  that  he  began,  and  in  the  coniinandments  to  seek 
his  God^  he  did  it  with  all  his  heart.  The  Psalmist  says, 
"Thou  art  my  God,  early  will  I  seek  thee;''  and,  in  the 
Proverbs,  God  says,  "  They  that  seek  one  early  shall  find 
me."  And  Paul,  in  his  epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  makes 
the  following  representation  of  God:  "  He  is  a  rewarder 
of  them  that  diligently  seek  him'' 

It  is  delightful  to  reflect,  in  this  connection,  that  the 
favor  of  God  is  an  object  that  may  be  obtained  with 
more  certainty  than  any  other  desirable  end.  Men  may 
seek  victory  over  their  enemies,  and  prosecute  their 
warfare  with  bravery  and  skill,  and  yet  some  slight 
incident,  beyond  their  control,  may  turn  the  fortune  of 
the  day  against  them.  They  may  enter  the  lists  of 
fame,  and,  as  few  can  obtain  the  distinction  sought, 
they  see  the  prize  borne  away  from  them  by  another. 
They  may  compete  with  their  fellows  for  popular  favor, 
and  the  caprice  of  the  multitude  may  baffle  their  utmost 
skill.  They  may  seek  wealth  with  severe  toil,  and 
shrewd  calculations,  and  cautious  frugality,  and  yet  the 
very  elements  may  conspire  against  them  to  keep  them 
in  the  vale  of  poverty. 

In  short,  every  temporal  good  is  uncertain  and  transi- 
tory. But  the  favor  of  God  is  sure.  "  The  battle  is  not 
(always)  to  the  strong,  nor  the  race  to  the  swift,  nor 
favor  to  men  of  skill,  nor  riches  to  men  of  understand- 
ing, but  time  and  chance  happeneth  to  them  all."  How 
cheering  to  look  away  from  the  uncertainty  that  rests 
upon  all  earthly  good,  to  "The  city  that  hath  founda- 
tions whose  builder  and  maker  is  God!"  And,  how 
delightful  to  know  that  the  favor  of  the  Lord  is  given, 
Avith  infallible  certainty,  to  all  who  properly  seek  it. 
"  Ye  shall  seek  me,  and  find  me,  when  ye  shall  search 
for  me  with  all  your  heart."  "  Seek  (says  our  Saviour) 


SEEKING   THE   LORD   SO    AS   TO    FIND   HIM.  161 

and  ye  shall  find,  ask  and  ye  sliall  receive,  knock  and 
it  sliall  be  o^^ened  unto  you :  for  every  one  that  seeketh 
findeth,  and  he  that  asketh  receiveth,  and  to  him  that 
knocketh  it  shall  be  opened." 

While,  therefore,  God  has  purposely  clothed  every 
other  human  interest  with  uncertainty,  he  has  taken  this 
highest  possible  benefit,  his  eternal  favor,  and  placed  it 
beyond  liie  reach  of  time  and  chance.  He  has  encou- 
raged us  to  seek  other  objects,  by  a  probability  of 
success,  proportioned  to  their  value.  To  this,  because 
it  is  of  infinite  value,  he  has  given  a  positive  certainty. 
"  Ye  shall  seek  me,  and  find  me,  when  ye  shall  search 
for  me  with  all  your  heart." 

But  is  it  practicable  to  seek  for  this  object?  It  is 
certainly  possible  to  conceive  that  God's  eternal  favor 
may  be  secure  to  those  that  seek,  and  yet  a  man  might 
be  in  such  a  state,  as  would  render  it  perfectly  unrea- 
sonable to  ask  him  to  seek  it. 

If  you  were  to  go  to  an  untutored  Hottentot,  and 
exhort  him  to  seek  the  favor  of  his  Maker,  without 
imparting  to  him  any  knowledge  of  the  Gospel,  it  would 
be  unreasonable  for  you  to  exj^ect  him  to  seek  the 
divine  favor.  He  would  not  understand  the  process, 
nor  even  comprehend  the  meaning  of  your  exhortation. 

But,  have  not  men  to  whom  the  Gospel  has  come, 
any  more  power  than  such  a  one  to  seek  efi'ectually  the 
Lord  ?  I  think  they  have.  They  understand  what  the 
object  to  be  sought  is.  The  promise  of  finding,  you 
will  observe,  does  not  rest  upon  a  peculiarly  skillful 
mode  of  seeking.  N^othing  is  required,  except  that  you 
really  seek.    "  Seek,  and  ye  shall  fincV 

What  is  it  to  seek  an  object?  It  is  trying  sincerely  to 
find  it.  Can  you  not  then  seek  the  divine  favor  ?  Can 
you  not,  at  least,  try  to  find  it  ? 

It  is  equally  obvious  that  you  may  seek  it  with  all 


162  THE   NEW   YORK    PULPIT. 

your  heart.  You  can  scarcely  mistake  the  meaning  of 
this  language.  When  you  render  a  favor  to  one,  with 
genuine  good  will,  you  do  it  with  all  your  heart.  You 
invite  a  friend  to  participate  in  your  hospitality,  and 
cordially  urge  him  to  spend  a  season  in  your  family. 
You  do  it  with  all  your  heart. 

It  is  a  practicable  thing  to  seek  God  with  the  same 
sincerity.  You  may  make  all  your  arrangeitients  for 
securing  the  time  for  giving  a  needful  and  uninterrupted 
attention  to  this  great  interest.  It  may  be  inconvenient 
to  do  so.  But  if  your  physician  should  satisfy  you  that 
a  fatal  disease  was  bearing  you  on  rapidly  to  the  grave, 
and  that  a  total  suspension  of  attention  to  secular 
affiiirs,  and  a  voluntary  confinement  in  your  chamber 
for  ninety  days,  were  indispensable  to  your  recovery, 
you  would  be  able  to  make  your  arrangements  to  pur- 
sue such  a  course.  So,  you  have  it  obviously  in  your 
power  to  arrest,  as  far  as  it  may  be  desirable,  your 
attention  to  secular  affairs,  and  thus  to  secure  the  time 
for  an  unembarrassed  and  thorough  consideration  of 
this  great  interest — the  attainment  of  the  favor  of  God. 

Equally  obvious  is  it,  that  it  is  in  your  power  to 
secure  your  attention  to  this  one  interest.  You  may 
command  the  proper  books,  obtain  the  proper  counsel- 
lors, and  cut  ofi"  from  yourself  all  diverting  objects,  and 
chain  your  mind  up  to  this  one  great  work,  the  securing 
of  the  divine  favor. 

This  done,  you  may  abandon,  in  pui-pose  and  in  fact, 
every  thing  which  you  yourself  judge  to  be  wrong. 
In  other  words,  you  can  listen  to  and  obey  the  voice  of 
conscience,  and  cordially,  w^itli  all  your  heart,  implore 
the  mercy  of  God ;  and  you  may  find  abundant  encou- 
ragement to  such  an  effort  in  the  saying  of  Christ, 
"  Seek  and  ye  sliall  find." 

To  confirui  tliis  view  of  the  practicability  of  finding 


SEEKING   THE   LORD   SO    AS   TO    FIND    HIM.  163 

the  divine  favor,  let  me  call  your  attention,  for  one 
moment,  to  the  history  of  such  endeavors  as  found  in 
the  sacred  Scriptures.  The  popular  influence  of  the 
Bible  depends  very  much  upon  the  historical  facts,  and 
the  real  and  supposed  instances,  by  which  every  import- 
ant principle  is  elucidated.  Thus  the  uncertainty  of 
worldly  blessings,  even  to  the  best  men,  is  set  forth 
by  the  'history  of  Job.  The  danger  attending  the 
highest  and  most  desirable  stations  is  portrayed  in  the 
career  of  Solomon.  The  deceitfulness  of  riches,  and  the 
danger  of  being  satisfied  with  worldly  possessions,  are 
exhibited  in  the  instance  of  the  rich  man,  who  said  to 
his  soul :  "  Take  thine  ease,  eat,  drink,  and  be  merry ; 
thou  hast  much  goods  laid  up  for  many  years."  But 
we  have  no  historical  facts,  no  instances,  no  supposed 
cases,  to  show  that  a  man  may  seek  after  God  with 
a  sincere  earnestness  and  fail  to  find  him. 

If  we  resort  to  observation  and  exp^rieftee^-the'^me 
view  is  confirmed.  We  have  never  seen  a  man  seeking 
the  favor  of  God  as  a  paramount  object  of  regard,  and 
failing  to  find  it.  There  are,  it  is  true,  not  a  few,  who, 
under  the  influence  of  nervous  depression,  or  extrava- 
gant expectations  in  respect  to  the  manner  in  which  God 
manifests  his  favor,  are  oppressed  with  gloomy  appre- 
hensions, and  treading  on  the  confines  of  religious 
despair  or  delirium.  But  I  have  never  met  with  a  case 
in  which  a  man  in  good  bodily  health,  with  an  equable 
flow  of  spirits,  and  a  calm  and  settled  purpose,  gave  the 
first  place  to  the  work  of  securing  the  favor  of  God,  who 
did  not  within  a  reasonable  time  find  grounds  of  com- 
fortable assurance  that  his  end  was  secured.  Indeed,  it 
would  operate  on  my  mind  as  a  most  fatal  discourage- 
ment, if  it  were  not  so.  It  would  have  more  power 
than  all  infidel  objections  put  together,  if  it  could  be 
shown  that  men  might  become  entirely  teachable  and 


164  THE   NEW    YORK   PULPIT. 

willing  to  do  tlieir  best  to  find  the  divine  favor,  and  yet 
that  their  success  would,  even  then,  be  uncertain.  If  I 
could  know  that  one  j^oor  sinner  had  listened  to  divine 
instruction  for  the  express  purpose  of  learning  what 
he  should  do  to  be  saved,  and  had  aimed,  with  a  cor- 
dial good  will,  to  comply  with  those  instructions,  and 
his  eftbrts  were  unavailing,  I  never  could  stand  up 
again  with  courage  and  call  men  to  come  to  tlieir 
Saviour.  I  must  be  permitted  to  pledge  his  veracity, 
that  however  poor,  and  heavy-laden,  and  guilty  they 
may  be,  if  they  will  but  come  to  him  he  will  give  them 
rest.  I  must  be  allowed  to  say,  in  the  name  of  God, 
"  Ye  shall  seek  me  and  find  me,  when  ye  shall  search 
for  me  with  all  your  heart." 

But,  if  it  be  so  manifestly  practicable  for  men  to  find 
the  divine  favor,  why  do  not  men,  in  greater  numbers, 
attain  an  end  so  desirable  ?  It  is  certain  that  multi- 
tudes give  their  habitual  attention  to  spiritual  things 
without  becoming  devout  Christians.  They  appear  in 
the  sanctuary.  They  treat  with  respect  the  things  of 
God.  They  do  more.  They  seem  to  seek  spiritual 
benefits  by  a  regular  attention  to  the  means  of  grace. 
Wliy  do  they  not  obtain  them  ?  There  are  two  reasons, 
one  or  the  other  of  which  applies  to  the  greater  part  of 
our  more  serious  hearers.  First,  many  do  not  seek  the 
right  object.  Instead  of  seeking  God  directly;  instead 
of  coming  to  him  with  humble  importunity,  begging  his 
favor,  and  casting  themselves  on  his  mercy,  they  seek 
self-purification  as  a  preparative  for  coming  to  God. 
Now,  as  this  self-purification  never  can  be  attained,  nor 
commenced  even,  without  the  divine  favor,  no  amount 
of  earnestness  can  avail  anything  while  thus  misdi- 
rected. 

I  have  represented  to  my  mind  this  case,  by  suppos- 
ing a  person  afilicted  with  an  issue  of  blood,  like  the 


SEEKING   THE   LORD    SO    AS   TO   FIND   HIM.  165 

poor  woman  who  touched  the  hem  of  our  Saviour's  gar- 
ment, and  was  healed.  Suppose  yourself  in  such  a  case. 
Bloody  discharges  are  issuing  from  the  fatal  w^ound,  and 
defiling  your  person,  and  causing  your  life  silently  to 
ebb  away.  There  stands  by  your  side  a  friend  who  has 
power  to  heal  you  by  a  touch.  He  makes  it  an  indis- 
pensable condition,  however,  that  you  shall  take  hold 
of  his  garment,  in  token  of  confidence.  You  wish  to  be 
healed.  You  make  earnest  efibrt,  but  it  is  improperly 
directed.  You  are  not  gazing  at  the  physician,  and 
pressing  through  difiiculty,  striving  with  outstretched 
hand  to  touch  the  hem  of  his  garment.  On  the  con- 
trary, you  are  gazing  upon  the  fatal  wound,  and,  by 
various  ablutions  and  changes  of  apparel,  endeavoring 
to  give  yourself  the  decent  appearance  of  a  person  who 
is  not  thus  afflicted  with  a  loathsome  disease.  You  are 
not  seeking  the  favor  of  your  physician,  but  endeavor- 
ing to  purify  yourself,  w^hile  the  source  of  defilement 
still  exists,  in  all  its  power. 

So,  many  a  sinner  is  occupied  with  the  work  of  self- 
purification,  and  labors  in  vain.  "The  leprosy  lies  deep 
within,"  and  he  never  will  find  spiritual  health  and 
peace  till  he  listens,  with  an  obedient  temper,  to  the  call, 
"  Come  unto  me  all  ye  that  labor,  and  are  heavy  laden, 
and  I  will  give  you  rest." 

Others,  again,  who  admit  that  they  cannot  purify 
themselves,  have  placed  a  wrong  object  before  their 
minds  by  seeking  another  kind  of  preparation  for  seek- 
ing God.  They  confess  that  they  entertain  not  the  least 
hope  of  purifying  their  own  hearts,  but  they  fancy  that 
they  must  attain  to  a  certain  degree  of  seriousness,  and 
reach  a  state  in  which  they  shall  secure  clear  and  con- 
sistent views,  as  a  preparative  to  seeking  God.  I  have 
represented  to  myself  this  species  of  endeavor,  by  fancy- 
ing that  one  of  these  little  children  has  been  walking 


166  THE   NEW   YOKK   PULPIT. 

upon  the  upper  side  of  the  ceiling  of  this  house.  He 
has  stept  upon  the  ventilator,  in  the  centre,  and  it  has 
broken  with  his  weight.  He  hangs  suspended  by  cling- 
ing, with  one  hand,  to  a  frail  lath.  To  ascend,  and  re- 
cover himself,  is  impossible.  To  fall,  by  his  own  weight, 
would  be  fatal.  His  father  provides  for  receiving  him 
safely,  if  he  will  cast  himself  off  at  his  word.  But  he  is 
afraid,  and  distrusts  his  father.  He  is  shown  that  he 
cannot  recover  himself.  He  admits  it.  He  has  placed 
himself  in  that  position  by  his  own  folly.  He  admits 
this,  and  allows  that  he  has  nothing  to  depend  on  but 
his  father's  kindness.  We  all  urge  him  to  relax  his 
hold,  and  to  fall,  at  once,  into  his  father's  arms.  He  is 
not  ready.  He  endeavors  to  place  himself  in  a  position 
in  which  he  may  fall  gracefully,  or  in  which  it  will  be 
less  mortifying  to  have  it  appear  that  he  voluntarily 
yields  to  such  a  call,  and  that,  too,  after  he  had  onee, 
openly  and  boastin^y,  declared  that  he  would  carry 
himself  safely  through  with  his  exploit. 

Now,  it  is  true,  that  as  long  as  he  cherishes  this  self- 
will  he  cannot  relax  his  grasp,  and  fall  into  the  arms  of 
safety.  But  will  you  say  that  he  cannot  let  go,  while 
he  employs  much  greater  efforts  to  maintain  his  position  ? 

Such  is  the  condition  of  many  a  sinner,  who  admits 
tliat  he  cannot  render  himself  deserving  of  the  divine 
favor.  He  is  endeavoring  gradually  to  prepare  himself. 
He  tries  to  place  himself  in  a  position  from  which  he 
may,  with  less  mortification,  and  difiiculty,  yield  him- 
self to  his  Saviour.  Yet  the  outstretched  hands  of 
mercy  are  beneath  him.  His  Saviour  calls  him  to  relax 
liis  grasp,  and  sink  into  his  arms.  Instead,  however,  of 
looking  to  A^m,  and  seeking  repose,  with  the  beloved 
disciple,  on  the  bosom  of  Christ,  he  still  persists  in  look- 
ing to  himself^  and  in  endeavoring  to  change  his  own 
position.     He  does  not  find  the  divine  favor,  for  the 


SEEKING   THE   LORD    SO    A8   TO   FIND   13 IM.  167 

obvious  reason  that  that  is  not  tlie  object  whicli  be 
seeks. 

K  such  fail,  can  there  be  any  doubt  as  to  the  reason 
why  those  who  are  neglectful  of  the  whole  subject  do 
not  find  God  ? 

We  may,  it  is  true,  raise  the  inquiry  why  so  many  of 
those  who  attend  upon  the  public  worship  of  God,  and 
listen  to  the  gospel,  neglect  to  seek  and  obtain  the 
divine  favor. 

This  question  may  be  answered  in  one  word.  They 
do  not  attend  to  the  subject.  That  is  to  say,  they  do  not 
fully  consider  those  great,  and  solemn  truths  which  so 
deeply  concern  them. 

]^o  one  can  think  of  the  law  of  God,  and  of  himself, 
as  being  a  subject  of  the  government  of  God,  and  re- 
main unaffected.  If  he  dwells  upon  it,  he  will  perceive 
that  the  precept  of  the  law  is  exceeding  broad  ;  that  it 
demands  of  him  that  he  shall  be  constantly  governed  by 
a  supreme  love  to  his  Maker,  and  a  disinterested  and 
impartial  regard  to  the  interests  of  all  mankind.  He 
will  perceive  that  the  penalty  of  the  law  dooms  the 
transgressor  to  eternal  death,  and  that  he,  himself,  is 
exposed  to  this  awful  curse.  He  will  view  himself  as 
every  moment  exposed  to  be  cut  down,  and  placed  for- 
ever beyond  the  reach  of  mercy.  Looking  do^vn  into 
the  pit  of  the  lost,  and  thinking  of  their  companionship, 
their  guilt,  their  extreme  torment,  and  their  despair, 
and  of  the  greatness,  and  the  instant  character  of  his 
jeopardy  of  all  this  evil,  he  cannot  avoid  looking  about, 
with  anxious  eyes,  for  a  place  of  refuge. 

So,  if  he  will  reflect  on  the  mediation  and  sacrifice  of 
Christ,  and  see  at  what  a  price  his  pardon  was  bought, 
he  cannot  but  be  moved  by  it.  Why,  you  could  not 
witness  the  scourging  of  the  most  inconsiderable  of  your 
fellow  citizens,  and  see  the  blood  trickling  from  beneath 


1()S  THE   NEW   YORK   PULPIT. 

the  lash,  and  hear  his  groans,  and  know  that  he  endured 
it  from  a  voluntary  connection  with  you,  and  through 
your  fault,  while  he  himself  was  innocent ;  you  could 
not  witness  such  a  spectacle  without  the  deepest,  and 
most  effective  imj)ressions  being  made  upon  your  heart. 

How  then  can  you  dwell  upon  the  condescension,  the 
suffering,  the  dying  agonies  of  the  innocent  Jesus,  and 
consider  the  scene  till  you  appreciate  it  as  a  reality 
without  being-  moved  by  it  ?  You  cannot  do  it.  I  know 
human  nature  is  stubborn,  and  obdurate.  Tliat  men 
have  a  wonderful  power  of  steeling  their  hearts  against 
the  appeals  of  truth.  But  the  gospel  is  stronger  than 
man,  and  the  only  way  to  avoid  the  influence  of  that 
gospel,  and  to  prevent  himself  from  being  subdued  by 
it,  is  by  casting  it  out  of  the  mind  by  grieving  the  Holy 
Spirit,  and  refusing  to  look  up  to  the  Lamb  of  God  that 
taketh  away  the  sins  of  the  w^orld. 

The  subject  suggests  the  most  urgent  motives  both 
of  encouragement  and  alarm,  to  induce  you  to  seek  the 
favor  of  God. 

There  is  great  danger,  my  unconverted  friend,  that 
you  never  will  be  savingly  affected  by  the  gospel.  You 
can  easily  mistake  your  object.  Instead  of  seeking  God 
you  may  seek  self-purification.  Tlie  attainment  looks 
like  something  so  praiseworthy,  that  you  are  extremely 
liable  to  continue  in  a  fatal  delusion. 

By  a  perversion  of  the  conscience,  you  may  say  I  am 
trying  to  be  good.  Certainly,  you  may  say,  no  one  can 
object  to  that.  To  confess  your  sins,  to  acknowledge 
your  lielj^lessness,  and  beg  for  mercy,  is  humiliating. 
You  are  reluctant.  You  ask,  how  can  you  object  to  my 
endeavoring  to  be  good  ?  I  will  tell  you  how.  God  re- 
quires you  first  of  all  to  come  to  him  and  implore  his 
mercy  through  Christ.  The  purification  of  your  nature 
can  commence  in  no  other  way.     While  you  esteem 


SEEKING    THE    LOKD    SO    AS    TO    FIND    HIM.  169 

tliat  Saviour  ''  as  a  root  out  of  a  dry  ground,"  you  reject 
God's  appointed  method  of  restoration  to  his  favor.  No 
pretext  of  seeking  to  be  good  can  justify  your  resisting 
tlie  very  first  claim  of  the  gospeL 

You  may  wash  yourself  with  the  utmost  assiduity, 
and  you  will  be  filthy  still.  The  leprosy  and  defilement 
are  too  deep  to  be  touched  except  by  him  who  can  say, 
"  be  thou  clean,"  and  that  nature  which  he  created  shall 
hear  his  voice  and  obey. 

You  may  endeavor  to  place  yourself  in  a  more  favora- 
ble position  for  falling  into  the  arms  of  divine  mercy. 

It  cannot  be  done.  Guilt,  deep  ill  desert,  and  im- 
minent danger  are  the  preparatives.  You  have  these. 
You  may  as  well  confess  it  first  as  last.  You  are  a  poor, 
miserable,  helpless,  guilty  sinner.  Your  efi'orts  to  pre- 
pare yourself  for  relaxing  your  grasp  upon  the  world, 
upon  self-will,  are  nothing  but  a  tenacious  clinging  to 
them.  You  need  no  preparation  to  let  go,  and  sink  into 
the  embrace  of  a  merciful  Redeemer.  On  the  contrary, 
you  need  to  do  that  as  a  preparation  for  every  accepta- 
ble attempt  to  obey  and  please  God. 

And  what  other  encouragement  can  you  need  than 
the  declaration  of  our  text,  "  Ye  shall  seek  me  and  find 
me  when  ye  shall  search  for  me  with  all  your  heart  ?" 

Yes,  you  may  find  God ;  you  may  secure  his  eternal 
favor.  You  may  do  it,  not  merely  after  seeking  him 
long  and  unsuccessfully.  You  may  find  him  now,  if 
you  will  now  search  for  him  with  all  your  heart. 

Fix  it  in  your  mind,  then,  that  this  is  your  first  object. 
Go  from  this  sanctuary  to  your  retirement,  and  kneeling 
before  the  Lord,  say  to  him :  "  Thou  knowest  all  things. 
Thou  art  the  searcher  of  hearts,  and  thou  knowest,  O 
Lord,  that  laying  aside  every  other  interest  as  inferior, 
I  now  come  to  thee,  searching  for  thee  with  all  my 
heart. 

8 


170  THE   NEW   YORK   PULPIT. 

"  I  have  tried  self-purification  and  failed.  Tlie  out- 
ward cleansing  does  not  touch  the  deep  fountain  of  my 
personal  vileness.  I  have  waited  to  become  ready,  and 
have  only  departed  farther  from  thee.  My  preparations 
for  seeking  thee  have  only  been  a  form  of  resisting  thy 
claims.  Thou  hast  called  me  first  of  all  to  seek  thee.  To 
thee,  then,  I  come — to  thee,  who  hast  never  spurned  a 
sincere  soul  from  thy  throne  of  grace. 

"  Thy  word  and  thy  instituted  means  of  grace  have 
taught  me.  Thy  Holy  Spirit  has  convinced  me  of  sin. 
The  uplifted  bleeding  Lamb  of  God  has  appealed  to  my 
sensibilities.  That  bruised  and  dying  Redeemer  has 
presented  me  the  true  and  only  remedy.  Help  me  by 
thy  grace  to  gaze  upon  him  as  the  bitten  Israelite  turned 
his  glazed  eye  (while  the  deadly  poison  was  raging 
within)  to  the  symbol  of  thy  mercy.  Arrest,  by  thy 
power,  the  work  of  death  in  this  ruined,  helpless  nature. 
Hast  thou  not  bidden  me  thus  to  seek  thee  ?  Help  me, 
O  God,  help  me  by  thy  grace,  for  I  search  for  thee  with 
all  my  heart." 

Go  thus  to  God,  and  you  shall  find  his  eternal  favor. 
His  promise  cannot  fail.  "  Then  shall  ye  call  upon  me, 
and  ye  shall  go  and  pray  unto  me,  and  I  will  hearken 
unto  you.  And  ye  shall  seek  me  and  find  me,  when  ye 
shall  search  for  me  with  all  your  heart." 


XII. 

THE  WAR  WHICH  KNOWS  ISTO  EXEMPTS, 
AISTD  GIYES  XO  QUARTER. 

BY  WILLIAM  R.  WILLIAMS,  D.D., 

Pastor  of  the  Arrdtn/  street  Baptist  Church,  ITe/w  York. 
And  there  is  no  discharge  in  that  war. — Eccles.  viii,  8. 

It  has  been  a  growing  tendency  of  our  times  to  nar- 
row the  range  both  of  combatants  and  of  prize  and  ])\\\ji- 
der  in  warfare,  thus  economizing  its  drafts  alike  on  pro- 
perty and  on  life.  In  ancient  days,  all  the  inhabitants 
of  an  invaded  land — ^the  infant,  smiling  ont  of  its  cradle 
into  the  face  of  the  armed  stranger,  the  mother,  the 
grandsire,  and  the  bed-ridden  sufferer,  no  less  than  the 
man  of  war  found  wielding  spear  and  sword,  were  liable 
to  be  indiscriminately  butchered  by  the  enemy.  ISTot 
only  the  public  property,  in  the  ownership  of  the  hostile 
government  or  sovereign,  but  all  the  private  domicils 
and  possessions  of  the  most  quiet  citizens,  became  the 
plunder  of  a  conqueror ;  and  were  treated  as  the  for- 
feited prey  which  victory  might  snatch  out  of  the  hands 
of  the  vanquished.  Xow — save  in  a  general  bombard- 
ment or  siege,  where  exceptions  and  distinctions  cannot 
well  be  drawn,  but  where  all  must  bear  indiscriminate 
harm — ^it  is  desired  to  separate  the  mass  of  the  nation 
from  the  volleys  of  death  hurled  upon  the  army,  their 
select  and  caparisoned  defenders.    E^ow,  too,  public  la^\-, 

171 


172  THE   NEW    YORK   PULPIT. 

more  and  more,  seems  disposed,  at  least  in  Christian  na- 
tions, botli  upon  the  land  and  npon  the  sea,  to  exempt 
from  the  range  of  its  confiscations  the  property  of  those 
not  actually  combating — the  home  and  the  estate  of  the 
private  citizen. 

Yet,  how  terrible,  with  all  these  softenings  of  its  grim- 
ness,  and  spite  of  all  these  abatements,  is  War,  even  in 
our  own  more  favored  age.  Tliink,  of  its  carnage  not 
only,  but  of  the  bereaved  homes  where  the  dead  are 
long  missed  and  bitterly  moui-ned.  Think  of  the  trade, 
study,  and  business  broken  up  ;  the  wealth  squandered ; 
the  maimed  in  limb,  and  the  broken  in  health,  who  lost, 
in  its  exposures  and  campaigns,  a  strength  and  a  whole- 
ness which  were  never  to  return  ;  of  the  trodden  harvest 
field  and  the  burned  village,  and  the  land  dispeopled 
and  desolate.  Think  of  the  profligacy,  lawlessness,  riot, 
and  profanity,  that  walk  in  the  train  of  Battle,  and  that 
linger  long  after  the  return  of  Peace.  Think  of  the 
alarms,  and  wanderings,  and  severances,  inflicted  upon 
the  families  which  found  their  homes  to  lie  in  the  track 
of  Invasion ;  and  who  were  scattered  like  a  brood  of 
frightened  partridges  fi'om  the  hovering  of  the  hawk — 
to  hide  themselves  where  they  could  and  as  they  best 
might.  And  thus  dwelt  upon  in  its  details,  war,  even 
in  its  liglitest  and  most  harmless  shape,  is  no  small  evil. 
But,  once  recall  the  past,  and  gather  back  all  the  old  ag- 
gravations of  war.  Make  all  property  liable  to  confis- 
cation, and  every  age  and  either  sex  the  common  prey 
of  massacre.  And  suppose  such  a  war  let  loose  upon 
some  community  whom  modern  civilization  and  long- 
Peace  had  made  careless  and  defenceless,  destitute  of 
arms,  and  unapt  to  use  them,  if  possessed.  How  horri- 
ble would  be  the  rush  of  Blood,  and  Rapine,  and  Fire, 
ovQY  a  people  and  a  land  thus  grown  unused  to  the  con- 
flict, and  standing  like  ripe  grain  in  thickest  swath  to 


THE   WAR   WHICH   KNOWS    NO   EXEMPTS.  173 

meet  the  keen  scythe  of  the  terrible  mower  Death,  as  it 
took  its  widest  swing.  The  land  would  be  like  Eden 
before  the  invader,  and  like  the  burning  cities  of  the 
plain  behind  his  fiery  march.  You  would  be  re- 
minded of  the  old  boast  of  the  barbarian  chief,  that  the 
sod  dinted  by  the  hoof  of  his  steed  never  grew  green 
again. 

But,  from  the  ravages  made  by  the  assailant,  look  to 
the  sacrifices  imposed  by  the  defence.  Yet,  ordinarily, 
in  the  marshalling  of  soldiers  to  guard  their  country 
against  the  invader,  it  has  been  customary  to  make  ex- 
ceptions in  behalf  of  large  classes.  Tliose  of  the  gentler 
sex,  and  all  of  tender  age,  and  those,  too,  who  were  in 
advanced  life,  and  with  whom  infirmities  grew  whilst 
strength  fast  waned,  were  mercifully  passed  over  by  the 
requirements.  The  conscription  did  not  take  them. 
And  so,  also,  those  not  reaching  a  certain  stature.  And 
often,  too,  those  of  a  competent  age  and  size  and  vigor, 
who  could,  however,  hire  a  substitute,  were  discharged 
themselves  of  the  service,  by  bearing  the  expenses  of 
this  delegate,  who  enlisted  and  bled  in  their  room. 
Or,  again,  if  a  soldier  had  already  served  a  certain  num- 
ber of  years  in  the  field,  he  was  released  from  further 
bearing  of  arms.  The  Mosaic  law  was  especially  indul- 
gent in  the  exemptions  of  this  kind  that  it  allowed.* 
Tlie  man  who  had  built  a  house,  but  not  yet  dedicated 
it,  was  discharged,  even  out  of  the  ranks  in  which  he 
was  about  to  march  away  ;  and  so  he,  too,  who  had  be- 
trothed a  wife  but  had  not  yet  married  her.  And,  on 
the  verge  of  an  engagement,  the  Hebrew  captain  was  to 
summon  every  man  "fearful  and  faint  of  heart"  in  the 
host,  to  leave,  and  taking  his  discreditable  discharge,  to 
go  his  way.     "We  know  well  how  strong,  amid  our  own 

*  Deut.  XX.  5-8. 


174:  THE   NEW    YORK   PULPIT. 

busy  and  tlirifty  community,  is  the  tendency  of  men  to 
avail  themselves  of  every  legal  semblance  of  a  discharge 
from  onerous  public  duty,  or  even  from  their  equitable 
share  of  the  just  common  burden  : — how  service  in  the 
militia  mustering,  or  in  the  jury-box,  or  witness-stand, 
is  evaded,  and  the  assessor  and  tax-gather  shunned  : — 
and  how  urgently  a  discharge  is  pleaded  for,  whether 
justly  or  unjustly.  And  these  may  furnish  familiar 
illustrations  of  the  readiness  with  which  many,  did  war 
burst  forth,  would  seek  excuse  from  serving  in  the  ranks. 
To  be  drafted  as  a  recruit  would  by  some  be  resisted  on 
countless  grounds:  to  be  made  in  person,  or  to  have 
one's  home  and  property  become  the  target  against 
which  an  enemy's  line  should  point  their  musketry,  or 
should  throw  up  their  works  and  plant  their  parks  of  ar- 
tillery, would  be  regarded  by  many  as  a  sacrifice  to  be 
evaded  most  earnestly  and  persistently. 

There  is  a  war,  however,  where  all  must  enlist  and 
bear  arms.  None  are  exempt  from  its  conscriptions. 
Save  the  two  lonely  cases  of  Enoch  and  Elijah,  the  world 
has  yet  seen  no  instance  of  a  discharge.  There  is  a 
great  fortress  and  line  of  siege  confronting  every  home- 
stead, and  commanding  every  group  of  our  people — a 
line  whose  pointed  musketry  we  are,  perforce,  sooner  or 
later,  all  of  us  to  face — and  into  the  very  mouth  of 
whose  death-dealing  batteries  we  are  steadily  marching. 
Sabbath  by  Sabbath — day  by  day — ^hour  by  hour — ^mo- 
ment by  moment,  with  each  heaving  of  the  lungs  and 
Avith  each  winking  of  the  eye-lasli — the  young,  the  old, 
tlie  rich,  the  poor,  the  thoughtless  and  the  gloomy,  the 
ignorant  and  the  scholarly, — are  walking  up,  in  one  ine- 
vital)le  procession,  with  the  intermingled  tramp  of  Man- 
]  rood's  heavy  foot,  and  the  patter  of  Childhood's  footfall, 
— into  the  flaming  range  of  these  terrible  bastions. 
"  TuERE  IS  NO  DISCHARGE  IN  THIS  wAn."     You  fall  here : 


THE   WAR  WHICH   KNOWS   NO   EXEMPTS.  175 

I  fall  there.  The  rattling  hail  of  death  is  among  us  at 
this  instant.  Sure  as  the  daylight  now  shines,  so  sure  is 
it  that  we  must  all  bide  this  summoning,  and  must  brook 
this  conflict.  I  might  go  from  bench  to  bench  in  the 
Sunday-school,  and  from  pew  to  pew  here,  and  without 
the  least  hazard  of  mistake  say  to  everyone: — "And 
you,  too,  must  die."  "  It  is  appointed  unto  men  once 
TO  DEE  " — appointed  by  an  All-knowing  One,  of  whom 
there  is  no  cheating, — an  Omnipresent  One,  whom  there 
is  no  shunning, — an  Almighty  One,  whom  there  is  no 
resisting.  'No  skill,  no  craft,  no  force,  no  tears,  no  out- 
cries, no  aflfection  can  baffle  the  stroke.  No  heaps  of 
golden  ore,  no  ranges  of  widest  empire  can  purchase 
exemption  from  the  confiscations  of  death.  To  day,  the 
capitalist  stalks  the  exchange,  wielding  his  own  large 
fortune,  and  it  may  be  that  of  many  another  household 
than  his  own  ;  to-day  the  king  rules  his  myriads  of  sub- 
jects, and  all  the  cabinets  and  courts  watch  with  solici- 
tude the  turns  of  his  policy.  The  war  of  Death  comes 
on  ;  and  by  to-morrow  the  grim  invader  and  destroyer 
has  handed  over  the  fortune  of  the  millionaire  to  greedy 
heirs,  and  the  keys  of  the  bank  to  other  office-holders ; 
and  has  tossed  the  diadem  and  sceptre  of  a  dead  Csesar, 
perchance,  into  an  infant's  feeble  and  quivering  hands. 
None  pillages  like  Death,  with  such  sweeping  forfeitures ; 
his  victims  "  carry  nothing  away."  E'one  hunts  like 
Death,  never  losing  his  scent  or  missing  his  game.  None 
aims  like  Death,  with  a  shaft  that  always  hits.  Is  there 
no  flying — ^no  bribing — ^no  pleading — ^no  reasoning — no 
treating  with  the  enemy  ?  No.  There  is  no  discharge 
in  this  war.  Count,  if  you  can,  the  myriads  of  "  the 
mountains  of  his  prey,"  since  the  days  of  the  Fall.  Nim- 
rod  was  a  mighty  hunter  before  the  Lord.  But  Death 
is  a  mightier,  for  he  earthed  Nimrod  himself,  and  every 
other  conqueror  since.     He  has  heaped  the  soil  with 


176  THE    NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

pyramids  of  corpses,  and  manured  onr  globe  with  the 
dust  of  its  human  tenantry.  No  weapons  come  amiss 
to  his  fighting.  He  drowns,  burns,  strangles,  stabs, 
hacks,  poisons,  and  blights ;  all  modes  are  alike  to  him. 
He  spares  nor  sex,  nor  age,  nor  rank.      "Death  has 

PASSED   UPON   ALL." 

Thus  have  we  seen  the  meaning  of  the  terrible  meta- 
phor of  our  text,  or  that  war  which  ravages  everywhere, 
idid  confiscates  all  possessions,  and  exempts  none  of 
woman  born,  feeding,  with  its  prey,  a  grave  which  is 
never  satisfied.  May  the  Spirit  of  God  set  home  this 
most  familiar,  yet  the  most  forgotten  of  truths. 

n.  Let  us,  in  the  second  place,  now  count  over  some 
of  the  DISCHARGES  men  think  to  find,  but  which  have 
failed,  and  always  will  fail  them  in  the  trial. 

1.  Youth,  Jlojje,  and  Love  are  no  discharge.  If  they 
were,  would  our  journals,  and  weekly  obituaries  record 
BO  many  deaths  of  little  children — among  them,  how 
often,  the  only  child  of  doting  parents,  now  left  incon- 
solable ?  Has  not  the  sinking  steamship  on  the  ocean, 
the  burning,  or  exploding  steamer  upon  our  inland 
waters,  carried  down  in  its  wreck  many  a  husband  for 
whom  home  looked  long,  but  unavailingly  ?  Has  there 
not  gone  down  daughter,  sister,  or  wife,  whose  names 
would  have  been  the  last  to  be  selected,  in  their  own 
circle,  as  probable  victims  of  the  destroyer?  You  can 
so  ill  be  spared  at  home.  Parents  lean  on  you  ;  young 
associates,  and  friends  hail  you  as  the  very  centre  and 
bond  of  their  gaieties.  Hopes,  the  most  fond  and  bright, 
are  bound  up  in  your  life.  Or  you  are  a  parent,  and,  if 
you  are  taken,  who  would  provide  for,  and  who  instruct, 
and  defend  your  little  prattling  babes  ?  Surely  you  are 
not  to  b«  torn  from  a  sphere  where  you  are  so  greatly 
needed  ?     Look  around  the  circle  of  your  friends  that 


THE    WAR    WriTCU    KNOWS    NO    EXEMPTS.  177 

now  wear  mourniiio;.  There  are  amoni2:  tliem  widowB 
wlio  mourn  for  linsl)ands,  who  were  even  thus  needed, 
and  even  thus  beloved ;  but  the  wife  lost  the  household 
bond  and  stay.  Death  wrenched  them  away.  There 
are,  among  these  bereaved  ones,  children  already  mother- 
less, ere  some  of  them  were  yet  of  the  age  to  know 
the  vastness  of  their  own  terrible  loss.  There  are  those 
who  will  tell  you  that,  a  week  before  the  stroke  fell,  they 
had  not  a  thought  of  the  beloved  friend,  or  child,  being 
in  any  danger.  There  are  those  who  will,  with  sobs, 
explain  how  their  darling  boy  never  looked  so  well,  or 
bore  himself  so  winningly,  as  the  very  week  that  was  to 
stretch  his  waxen  corpse  in  the  undertaker's  narrow 
casing.  You  will  hear  of  the  holiday  jaunt  that  was 
fixed  for  the  very  month  which  Providence  had  marked 
for  the  funeral  escort.  Cheeks  as  blooming,  and  eyes  as 
bright  as  those  of  the  youngest  here,  paled  and  closed 
with  a  few  days  of  sickness.  Youth,  Ho]3e,  and  Love 
are,  then,  no  discharge. 

2.  'NoY  are  fears  of  death  any  discharge  from  it.  A 
man  may  be  reluctant  to  talk  or  think  of  the  gloomy 
topic ;  but  he  is  no  safer  by  forgetting,  and  shunning  it. 
In  any  ordinary  war,  the  Hebrew,  by  God' s  law,  upon 
owning  his  timidity,  might  be  exempt  from  service  ; 
but  it  was  not  so  in  this  great  conflict.  Tlie  fearful,  and 
the  fearless  must  march  here,  side  by  side.  You  may 
be  like  those  Eastern  heathen  princes,  before  whom  it  is 
a  rudeness  even  to  speak  of  dying,  or  like  the  old  Ro- 
mans who,  shy  of  naming  the  dread  fact  of  death,  spoke 
of  dej^arted  friends  as  those  who  "  liad  lived  f  but  the 
pale  king  does  not  refrain  from  calling  upon  those  who 
would  ignore  his  existence  and  decline  his  acquaintance. 
You  may,  like  Hobbes,  or  like  Bentham,  dread  to  be 
left  alone,  even  in  the  dark,  or,  like  the  first  of  them 
talk  of  dying,  as  a  leap  to  be  taken  into  the  dark  ;  but 

8^ 


178  TOE    NEW    YORK    PDLPIT. 

all  these  vague  and  sad  apprehensions  cannot  postpone 
tlie  plunge.  You  shudder  and  you  shrink,  and  per- 
chance in  very  horror  you  shriek ;  but  called,  you 
must  go. 

3.  ]^or  are  remedies^  and  skilly  and  science  a  compe- 
tent discharge.  These  may,  under  God's  blessing, 
lengthen  out  life,  and  may  restore  and  guard  health. 
But  walk  the  costliest  shop  of  the  apothecary,  and  ask 
its  owner's  history.  You  will  find  that,  spite  of  all  his 
medicaments,  he  has  father  and  mother,  and,  perhaps 
also,  the  wife  of  his  youth,  and  darling  children,  lying 
in  the  grave.  And  he  himself  owns  a  burial-plot  in 
some  cemetery  where  he  expects  to  be  gathered  one  day 
to  his  fathers.  Yisit  some  hospital  renowned  for  the 
perfection  of  its  arrangements,  and  the  fullness  of  its 
anatomical  museum,  and  the  talent  and  fame  of  its  med- 
ical staff;  and  you  learn,  on  inquiry,  that  yon  marble 
bust  is  the  image  of  some  great  physician  whose  face 
death  has  long  since  covered ;  that  the  founder  of  yon 
cabinet,  and  the  planner  of  these  admirable  and  effec- 
tive arrangements  for  the  relief  of  human  pain,  and 
some  of  those  eminent  names  who  once  walked  and 
taught  here  as  the  most  illustrious  proficients  in  the 
science  of  healing,  have  yet  all,  in  their  turn,  suc- 
cumbed to  the  destroyer.  Skill  may  delay,  but  cannot 
evade  the  summons. 

4.  'B.OY  is  it  a  discharge  that  you  have  many  unfin- 
ished jplans.  John  Bunyan  said,  with  a  rugged  energy 
of  expression,  that  it  would  be  well  if  living  men  w^ere 
more  used  to  take  their  own  dying  day  and  to  make  it 
their  company  keeper.  But  the  plans  of  most  men  are 
notoriously  shaped  without  reference  to  any  such  com- 
panion and  counsellor.  These  plans  stretch  far  ahead. 
Some  of  them  may  be  vicious  schemes  of  wrong-doing, 
and  of  reckless  self-indulgence.     Others  of  these  uncom- 


THE   WAR   WHICH   KNOWS   NO   EXEMPTS.  179 

pleted  purposes  may  be  honorable  and  noble.  They 
may  concern  your  own  improvement,  and  the  increase 
of  the  comfort  and  happiness  of  your  family.  They 
may  be  lofty  purposes  of  earnest  research  and  successful 
study.  They  may  be  long-pondered  and  sagacious  pro- 
jects for  the  rapid  accumulation  of  a  competency;  or 
dazzling  day-dreams  of  richest  affluence,  speedily  to  be 
won,  and  splendidly  to  be  enjoyed.  They  may  be  designs 
of  philanthropy,  and  of  merciful  ministering  to  the  well- 
being  of  your  land,  or  of  your  race.  You  may  be  full 
of  great  and  kindly  schemes  for  the  Church  and  the 
Mission  field.  Or,  as  yet  you  may  personally  have  neg- 
lected religion  ;  but,  you  intend  to  make  Christ,  as  you 
think,  full  amends  before  you  die.  You  mean  to  be 
one  day — much  sooner,  perhaps,  than  your  religious 
friends  suspect — a  convert ;  and,  when  converted,  you 
will  be  such  a  Christian — so  decided,  and  fearless,  and 
untiring,  of  such  consistency,  and  devoutness,  and  win- 
ning gentleness.  Would  we  dissuade  you  from  such  a 
purpose  ?  God  forbid.  But  we  would,  as  we  love  your 
souls,  dissuade  you,  and  warn  you  from  thus  neglecting 
present  duty,  and  from  forgetting  present  danger,  and 
present  sin,  in  the  formation  of  such  schemes  for  the 
future.  These  self-absolutions,  pronounced  in  foresight 
of  a  purposed  and  future  repentance,  are  damning  con- 
fessions as  to  the  conscious,  deliberate,  and  obdurate 
character  of  your  present  offences.  These  fair,  and,  as 
you  suppose,  godly  schemes  are  no  discharge  when  the 
bony  hand  of  Death  rattles  upon  your  door.  This  man 
dies  and  leaves  an  unfinished  ship  on  the  stocks ;  that 
man,  an  ungathered  harvest  in  his  fields.  Here  is  a 
book  which  the  author's  death  left  all  incomplete.  And 
we  have  read,  in  an  ancient  volume,  of  a  wise  man — a 
thrifty,  and,  for  all  that  we  know,  a  very  moral  and 
estimable  man — who  was  all  busied  about  such  schemes. 


180  THE   NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

He  meant  to  enlarge  his  barns,  and  store  tliere  liis 
harvest ;  and  then — and  then,  would  he  not  take  his 
ease  ?  The  book  goes  on  to  say,  that,  out  of  heaven,  he 
was  told  that  night  to  die,  and  called  a  "fool^^^  when 
summoned  into  eternity.  Is  the  book  true  ?  It  was 
made  by  the  Being  whose  servant  and  liege  vassal  death 
himself  is, — the  Being  who  was  never  yet  known  to 
utter  an  "  idle  wordP  There  can  be  no  mistake  in  the 
case.  That  was  the  precise  message  from  heaven.  Ah  ! 
should  you  receive  such  an  one, — or  I  %  The  schemes 
— ^frugal,  wise  and  comfortable  schemes  as  they  were — 
it  seems  were  yet  no  discharge  for  the  body  from  death 
and  for  the  soul  from  hell. 

5.  And  here  we  reach  another  awful  step.  The  want 
of  your  having  yet  made  any  py^eparation  of  the  soul  for 
death  /  the  utter  want  of  Christ's  grace  ;  the  want  of  the 
new  birth ;  the  want  of  a  good  hope  for  the  dying  hour, 
though  it  be  the  most  tremendous  of  deficiencies,  is  yet 
no  discharge  whatever  in  the  war.  K  death  takes  you 
away  as  you  are,  and  without  Christ,  your  soul  is  lost 
beyond  a  doubt.  Will  God  let  the  destroyer  hurry 
you  away  thus  unprepared  ?  "Why  not,  if  God's  book 
explicitly  warns  you  that  •'  the  wicked  is  driven  away 
in  his  wickedness  ?"  Why  not,  if  our  text  most  plainly 
says,  rounding  out  the  words  we  first  chose,  with  this 
addition:  "^Neither  shall  wickedness  deliver  those 'that 
are  given  to  it?"  Why  not  borne  away  unprepared,  if 
the  fault,  as  to  want  of  preparation,  is  all  your  own? 
You  have  been  familiar  ^vith  the  gospel ;  you  have  lived 
in  a  land  of  Bibles  and  Sabbaths,  and  have  had  your 
personal  warnings  from  Providence  and  your  own  secret 
strivings  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  When  this  great,  dread 
war,  to  which  you  were  born,  and  of  which  every 
cemetery,  every  tolling  bell,  every  funeral  notice,  every 
passing  hearse,  every  coffin  seen  by  you  through  the 


THE   WAR    WHICH    KNOWS    NO    EXEMPTS.  181 

panes  of  the  undertaker's  windows,  every  aclie  in  your 
own  person,  and  every  ailment,  warned  you — this  war, 
so  long  foreknown  and  so  terribly  fatal — calls  you,  the 
reluctant  and  the  truant,  to  take  yourself  the  front 
place — what  show  of  reason  is  there  in  your  pleading 
want  of  preparation  as  a  discharge  ?  For  what  was  life 
given  but  to  know  God?  And  knowing  God,  as  in 
Christ  he  most  graciously  revealed  himself  to  be  known 
by  you,  you  would  have  been  prepared.  "Why  have 
you  forborne  to  know  your  Saviour?  why  refused  to 
acknowledge  his  gracious  claims,  and  been  ashamed  to 
wear  his  blessed  livery  ?  He  shrunk  not  from  ignominy, 
or  any  pain  or  any  loss,  that  he  might  reach  and  rescue 
you.  Why  have  you  withholden  the  heart  that  he 
asked?  and  why  clung  to  the  sins  and  the  idols  that  he 
denounced?  and  why  rejected  the  love,  and  peace,  and 
the  heaven  that  he  proffered  freely — ^proffered  sincerely 
— ^proffered  often — and  is  proffering  you  even  now ; — ^but 
as  yet  has  proffered  to  you  all  in  vain? 

It  is,  indeed  a  terrible  lot,  from  a  land  of  light  and 
revivals,  to  go  do^vn,  unprepared  and  unforgiven,  to  an 
eternal  sorrow.  The  death  of  one  dying  without  Christ 
is  a  fearful  sight  to  behold ;  and  the  dej)arture  of  such  a 
spirit  on  quitting  the  body  is  a  journey  that  Fancy  may 
well  shudder  to  follow,  and  faint  as  she  attempts  to  depict 
it.  But  how  many  have  so  died.  And  if  death  comes 
for  us  thus  found  unready,  we  may  tremble  and  recoil ; 
but  the  terrible  sacrifice,  and  the  hopeless  doom  that 
are  before  us  as  we  go,  are  to  the  grim,  pale  King  of 
Terrors  no  discharge. 

"  Kot  ready !"  he  may  exclaim ;  "  and  after  all  this 
time — after  twenty  years,  thirty  years,  fifty  years,  or 
even  seventy  years,  not  ready  ?  When  Avould  you  be  ? 
Come  with  me,  then,  as  you  are.  If  you  have  loitered, 
I,  the  messenger  of  a  holy  law  and  a  just  God,  am  no 


182  THE   NEW   YOEK   PULPIT. 

loiterer :  here  is  my  warrant,  and  it  demands  you,  body 
and  soul." 

Men  dread  sickness  and  pain ;  they  shrink  from  de- 
pendence, and  poverty,  and  slavery :  it  seems  terrible  to 
them  to  be  the  thralls  of  idiocy  or  madness.  But  what 
are  all  these  forms  of  worldly  want  and  of  mortal  ^\oc 
compared  with  the  condition  of  him  who  must  go  to 
death,  and  is  all  unprepared  for  the  exchange  of  worlds  ? 
His  sins,  all  unsubdued,  are  neither  repented  of  nor  for- 
given. On  him  no  regenerating  change  has  passed  ;  and 
no  sanctification  has  made  him  meet  for  heaven.  The 
justification  in  the  blood  of  the  atonement,  and  in  the 
righteousness  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  in  which  others  glory, 
is  to  him  all  absent  and  unknown.  And  thus  destitute, 
how  can  he  meet  the  onslaught  of  death?  The  infatua- 
tion of  sin,  now  uncured  and  henceforth  forever  incur- 
able, wrecks  his  soul  for  all  eternity.  The  willful 
madness  of  unbelief  has  shut  him  from  paradise,  and 
darkened  to  him  the  face  of  Jehovah  forever.  And 
yet,  with  all  this  terror  and  anguish,  in  surest,  nearest 
prospect,  and  in  clearest  vision  before  him,  the  sinner's 
trouble  will  not  be  accepted  by  Death  as  a  discharge 
fi'om  your  entering  liis  ranks,  or  as  a  reason  for  his 
exempting  you  from  donning  his  white  livery  of  the 
shroud,  or  as  a  plea  why  you  should  not  lie  down  in  his 
halls  with  the  worm  as  your  mate,  and  with  corruption 
as  your  pillow  and  your  wrapper,  and  with  despair  as 
the  gliastly  and  eternal  heritage  of  your  soul. 

Is  this  carnage,  then,  to  reign  pitilessly,  and  hopelessly, 
and  universally  for  evermore  ?  Has  the  great  destroyer 
received  a  commission  to  ride  on  his  pale  horse,  with 
liell  following  hard  after  him,  and  leading  our  race  in 
his  train  as  his  captivity  and  his  prey,  down  through 
age  upon  age,  without  pause  and  without  bound  ?  Are 
men  to  go  on,  rolling  from  one  rocky  shelf  to  another 


THE   WAR   WHICH   KNOWS   NO    EXEMPTS.  183 

and  a  lower,  in  the  cavernous  pit  of  Topliet  and  "  the 
second  death,"  dropping  and  plunging  to  a  deeper 
perdition  for  evermore? 

The  smoke  of  the  torment  of  the  willfully  impenitent 
will  go  up,  we  answer,  day  and  night,  by  the  purpose  of 
a  just  and  justly  incensed  Jehovah.  But,  in  this  the 
day  of  opportunity  and  of  repentance,  there  is  pro- 
claimed to  us  who  yet  survive  One  mightier  than  is  either 
death  or  hell.  It  is  the  Prince  of  Life  and  the  Lord 
of  Glory.  He  came  to  destroy  him  that  had  the  power 
of  death,  that  is  the  devil."^  But  Jesus,  the  Captain  of 
our  salvation,  in  bringing  rescue,  must  himself  "  taste 
of  death" — ^must  not  only  meet  the  common  lot,  but 
must  bear  upon  himself  the  common  and  concentrated 
guilt  of  our  race.  Doing  it,  he  tore  from  death  its 
sting ;  and  to  them  that  believe  he  is  become  the 
author  of  life  everlasting.  Li  heaven,  upon  the 
throne,  he  is  seen  yet,  as  the  Lamb  that  had  been  slain ; 
the  fresh  and  gory  marks  of  conflict  upon  Him  enhanc- 
ing and  irradiating  his  divine  and  proper  glory.  His 
people  are  forgiven  all  their  sin,  and  receive  the  Holy 
Spirit  to  renew  and  to  sanctify  them,  and  to  fit  them  for 
a  land  which  death  cannot  invade,  and  where  sorrow  is 
unknown. 

To  them  that  receive  this  Christ,  the  war,  though 
fierce,  has  lost  its  main  terror,  and  is  now  stript  of  its 
real  though  not  of  all  its  apparent  perils.  Its  dungeon 
is  but  a  tunnelled  entrance  to  the  palace  home;  its 
cavern  leads  up,  by  a  passage  brief  though  dark,  to 
galleries  of  more  than  imperial  splendor,  and  terraces 
where  summer  never  fades,  and  winter  never  blights. 
Some  of  Christ's  servants  have  met  death  in  forms  of 
appalling  cruelty  and  startling  suddenness.    Some  have 

*  Hebrews  ii.  14. 


184:  THE   NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

perished  by  inclies  under  the  corroding  cancer;  and 
others  died  on  the  torturing  rack,  or  amid  the  stifling 
flames  and  smoke  of  the  Auto-da-fe.  On  the  ears  of 
some,  as  they  took  leave  of  earth,  came  the  taunt  and 
the  curse  of  the  persecutor  and  the  scoffer.  The  yells 
of  hate,  from  a  throng  mad  for  his  blood,  have  drowned 
the  prayers  of  the  meek  sufferer,  as  in  love  and  forgive- 
ness he  interceded  for  his  murderers.  But  over  all  this 
"bitterness  of  death"  faith  in  Jesus  has  triumphed. 
Death  has  been  transmuted  into  gain.  The  soldier  of 
Christ,  asking  no  discharge,  and  "  not  accepting  deliver- 
ance" by  apostasy,  went  into  the  struggle  and  com- 
mitted himself  to  the  death-grapple,  not  only  firm,  but 
calm ;  not  only  calm,  but  cheerful ;  not  only  cheerful, 
but  exulting,  jubilant,  and  radiant;  for  he  knew  in 
whom  he  had  believed:  like  Paul,  he  had  fought  a 
good  fight,  and  looked  for  a  crown  of  righteousness; 
like  Job,  knew  well  that  his  Eedeemer  liveth ;  and  like 
Stephen,  saw  the  Master  awaiting  his  follower's  ascent. 
This  blessed  Lord  has  brought  life  and  immortality  to 
light — ^lias  become  the  resurrection  and  the  life,  and 
the  first  fruits  of  them  that  slept.  And  to  all  his  true 
people  death,  in  this  their  Master's  right,  has  become 
the  gate  of  life.  The  war,  now  and  to  them,  puts  down 
the  last  enemy.  Its  struggles  to  them  are  the  last  con- 
tortions of  the  crushed  tempter.  Out  of  the  corruption 
and  carnage  the  believer  emerges,  to  sin  no  more,  to 
sigh  no  more,  to  fear  no  more.  He  joins  the  worship 
of  a  holier  church,  and  enters  on  the  felicities  of  a  bet- 
ter country,  where  the  inhabitant  shall  say  no  more,  "I 
am  sick."  Out  of  the  very  grave  he  gets  again  a  new 
and  glorified  body  in  the  resurrection  morn.  And 
tliough  it  does  not  yet  appear  what  this  shall  be;  yet  he 
sliall  be  like  Jesus,  for  lie  shall  see  him  as  he  is ;  and 
60   be  forever  with  the  Lord.     As  the  daguerreotype 


THE   WAR   WHICH    KNOWS    NO   EXEMPTS.  185 

stamps  on  itself  wliat  it  sees,  so  is  the  believer  trans- 
formed, in  the  flashing  and  potent  vision  of  his  Lord, 
into  the  permanent  likeness  of  what  he  beholds.  To  see 
Christ  as  he  is,  makes  like  nnto  Christ. 

To  him,  then,  mortality  loses  its  ghastliness,  and  pnts 
on  already  hopefulness  and  promise.  The  grave  is  like 
the  wet  and  cold  March  day  now  brooding  ov.er  our 
heads  and  miring  our  streets.  Of  darker  hue,  and 
moister,  chiller  air,  indeed,  than  he  might  have  chosen ; 
but  behind  all  this  gloom,  and  behind  all  this  damp,  lie 
the  treasures  of  bursting  spring,  and  the  glories  of  reful- 
gent summer.  The  light  afliictions,  that  are  but  for  a 
moment,  work  out  for  us  a  far  more  exceeding  and 
eternal  weight  of  glory.  To  the  saint  Death  changes 
many  of  his  offices.  Does  Pain  walk  at  his  side  ?  But 
is  he  not  also  the  queller  of  Strife  and  the  calmer  of 
Care  ?  The  aching  head  throbs  no  more ;  the  swollen 
heart  fetches  no  more  sighs.  The  weary  are  at  rest. 
He  is,  in  one  sense,  the  Destroyer;  but  he  is  also  the 
Restorer.  He  brings  back,  through  Christ's  victorious 
grace,  the  lost  innocence  and  peace  of  Eden.  Is  he  the 
Divider,  sundering  the  nearest  ties,  and  riving  asunder 
the  household  bands?  But  he  is  also  the  Re-uniter, 
gathering  me  to  my  dead  who  sleep  in  Jesus,  and  to 
"the  general  assembly  of  the  first  born."  Is  he  the 
curse  of  the  law?  Is  he  not  also,  through  our  blessed 
Master,  who  magnified  and  satisfied  that  law,  become 
to  us  who  believe  the  end  of  sin,  the  gate  of  paradise — 
and  the  guerdon  of  a  new,  a  better,  and  an  unending  life  ? 

Such  is  the  hope  that  the  Christian  earns  from  his 
Saviour's  care  and  bounty,  and  clothed  in  which  he 
takes  his  place  in  the  ranks  to  meet  the  onset  and  shock 
of  this  war  which  is  before  us  all.  And  such  is  the  hope 
that  the  trifler,  and  the  caviller,  and  the  worldling,  and  the 
loiterer  neglect  to  secure,  or  even  afiect  to  despise.    But 


186  THE   ]SKW    YORK   PULPIT. 

to  those  who  amongst  you  thus  refuse  Christ,  the  first 
death  is  the  sharp,  sudden  prehide  to  the  second  death, 
that  terrible  and  remediless  ruin  which  is  to  cast  both 
body  and  soul  into  the  fire  that  is  never  quenched.  As 
men  of  feeling  and  of  sense,  as  those  who  shrink  from 
slighter  pains,  and  dread  much  more  transitory  and 
much  more  trivial  woes,  "  can  you  dwell  with  everlast- 
ing burnings  ?"  For  "  our  God,"  as  prophets  and  apos- 
tles testified,  "  is  a  consuming  fire."  Is  it  safe  neglect- 
ing for  one  moment  more,  the  only  preparation,  until 
the  call  of  death  startles  us,  and  we  are,  with  the 
wicked,  driven  away  in  our  wickedness?  Or  will  you 
not,  here  and  now,  enlist,  a  grateful  penitent,  under 
that  Redeemer  who  died  once,  but  now  liveth  to  die  no 
more ;  and  who  is  to  his  people  the  Render  of  the  tomb, 
and  the  Way  to  the  Father? — the 

"  Death  of  death,  and  hell's  Destruction." 


XIII. 
COMESTG  TO  CHKIST. 

BY  M.  S.  BUTTON,  D.D. 
MiMster  of  the  Washington  Square  Dutch  Reformed  Church. 

Him  that  cometh  unto  me  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out.     John  vi.  ST. 

It  will  be  acknowledged  by  all  who  receive  the 
Bible  as  the  word  of  God,  that  Christ  Jesus  is  man's 
only  Saviour.  It  expressly  declares,  that  there  is  no 
other  name  given  under  heaven  whereby  we  must  be 
saved.  Our  reason  also  would  teach  us,  that  if  God 
himself  had  at  so  great  expense  provided  such  a  Saviour 
there  could  be  no  other. 

The  exalted  character  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  would 
also  in  itself  be  an  unanswerable  argument  in  proof  of 
the  truth  that  there  is  no  other  Saviour. 

It  will  also  be  acknowledged  by  all,  that  the  mere 
fact  that  a  Saviour  has  been  provided  does  not  secure 
the  salvation  of  any  adult  sinner.  There  is  a  necessity  for 
some  kind  of  union,  between  the  Saviour  and  the  saved 
sinner.  The  parties  must  know  and  accept  of  each 
other.  Tlie  Saviour  must  consent  to  save  each  indivi- 
dual, and  each  individual  must  consent  and  desire  to  be 
saved  by  liim.  Hence  the  announcement  in  the  text : 
"  Him  tluit  cometh  unto  me  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out." 
All  whom  Christ  saves  must  come  to  Him.  What, 
then,  is  the  meaning  of  this  expression  ?  What  is  it  to 
come  to  Christ.     What  are  we  to  come  for  ? 

187 


188  THE    NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

I  need  liardlj  remark,  that  no  bodily  approach  is  here 
intended.  Christ  is  no  longer  on  earth ;  and  when  he 
was  here,  many  thronged  him  and  pressed  npon  him 
who  nevertheless  were  cast  out.  His  most  bitter  ene- 
mies were  often  nearest  to  his  person.  ISTeither  does 
coming  to  Christ  consist  in  any  merely  outward  act.  It 
does  not,  therefore,  mean  to  be  baptized — nor  to  come 
to  the  Lord's  table — nor  to  attend  church — nor  to  kneel 
and  utter  words  of  prayer — nor  to  give  onr  wealth  for 
his  cause  and  the  advancement  of  his  kingdom — ^nor 
anything  else  of  merely  outward  duty.  The  language 
has  respect  to  the  frame  of  our  minds.  Matthew  gives 
us  this  record,  ix.  20 :  "  And  behold  a  woman,  which 
was  diseased  with  an  issue  of  blood  twelve  years,  came 
behind  him  and  touched  the  hem  of  his  garment,  for 
she  said  within  herself,  '  K I  may  but  touch  his  garment 
I  shall  be  whole  ;'  "  and  again  (28),  "  And  when  Jesus 
was  come  into  the  house,  the  blind  men  came  to  him, 
and  Jesus  saith  unto  them,  '  Believe  ye  that  I  am  able 
to  do  this?'  They  said  unto  him,  'Yea,  Lord.'  Then 
touched  he  their  eyes,  saying,  '  According  to  your  faith 
be  it  unto  you.'  And  their  eyes  were  opened."f  'Now 
if  you  will  separate  the  outward  action  in  these  cases, 
'  and  fasten  your  minds  upon  the  state  of  heart  and 
feeling  with  which  these  persons  applied  to  Christ,  you 
will  have  the  meaning  of  the  expression  to  come  to 
Christ.  Follow  in  imagination  that  poor  woman  as  she 
works  her  way  towards  the  Saviour,  saying  to  herself, 
"  If  I  can  but  touch  the  hem  of  his  garment."  She 
believed  in  Christ's  ability  to  heal,  and  in  his  willingness 
to  bestow  the  blessing.  And  mark  the  Saviour's  reply  : 
"  Daughter,  be  of  good  comfort,  thy  faith  hath  nuide  thee 
whole."  ]^ot  the  fact  that  she  came  near  him — not  the 
fact  that  she  touched  him — but  her  faith,  her  confidence 
that  he  could  and  would  heal  her :  that  confidence  was 


y   ^u*^  xj  r^  '-f^ 


COMING   TO    CimiST.  189 

coming  to  Christ.  Again,  in  our  Lord's  reply  to  the 
blind  men:  "Believe  ye  that  I  am  able  to  do  this? 
According  to  your  faith  be  it  unto  you."  Suppose  one 
of  these  men  had  been  led  merely  by  the  other,  and  did 
not  have  any  confidence  in  our  Lord's  ability,  he  would 
not  have  come  to  Christ,  though  he  stood  before  him, 
and  though  the  hand  of  Jesus  rested  upon  his  sightless 
eye-balls ;  nay,  and  his  eye-balls  would  have  remained 
sightless  in  despite  of  the  Saviour's  touch.  "  According 
to  your  faith  be  it  unto  you."  They  were  fully  per- 
suaded of  Christ's  ability  to  grant  their  desires,  and  had 
confidence  in  his  willingness  to  bestow  the  favor  upon 
their  application.  This  frame  of  spirit  was  coming  to 
Christ.  E'ow,  my  hearers,  the  gifts  which  Christ  is 
exalted  to  bestow  are  repentance  and  the  forgiveness  of 
sins,  salvation  from  sin,  and  heaven.  A  ad  to  come  to 
him,  is  to  believe  that  he  can  bestow  these,  and  will 
bestow  them  on  all  who  can  seek  them  at  his  hands.  K 
you  desire  Christ  to  save  you  from  your  sins,  and  trust 
him  to  do  so,  then  you  really  come  to  him.  Coming, 
and  practically  believing,  are  perfectly  synonymous. 
The  feeling  of  the  healed  woman,  "  K  I  can  but  touch 
the  hem  of  his  garment  I  shall  be  cured,"  was  coming 
to  Christ ;  and  the  sinner  who  simply  believes  and  relies 
on  the  truth,  Jesus  Christ  can  and  will  save  me,  has 
come  to  Christ. 

But  the  meaning  of  this  expression,  to  come  to  Christ, 
will  be  further  explained  and  illustrated  as  we  endea- 
vor to  reply  to  a  second  inquiry,  which  here  naturally 
suggests  itself,  viz. :  ''  How  can  I  come  to  Christ — ■ 
how  can  I  obtain  repentance,  and  faith,  and  desire,  and 
all  which  go  to  make  up  this  frame  of  feeling  styled 
coming  to  Christ  ?" 

Let  not  my  answer  to  this  inquiry  be  deemed  a  mock- 
ery, when  I  only  reiterate  the  direction.  Come  to  Christ. 


190  THE   NEW   YORK   PDLPIT. 

For  Christ  is  truly  the  author  of  the  whole  work,  and  he 
is  a  complete  Saviour,  and  does  meet  every  real  want 
and  necessity  of  the  lost  man.  And  I  freely  acknow- 
ledge that  this,  our  second  inquiry,  is  founded  on  a  real 
necessity.  No  person  can  change  his  disposition,  or  induce . 
a  particular  feeling,  by  merely  resolving  to  do  so.  In 
the  case  of  a  sinner's  feelings  towards  God,  this  is  pecu- 
liarly true — there  must  be  an  influence  from  w^ithout,  to 
induce  such  a  change,  and  no  being  less  than  God  him- 
self, can  perform  the  work.  We  can  corrupt  our  moral 
disposition,  render  ourselves  more  and  more  sinful,  but 
God  alone  can  renew  us — make  us  holy — give  us  re- 
pentance and  faith  in  Christ.  In  the  very  verse  of 
which  our  text  is  a  part,  Jesus  says,  "  All  that  the  Fa- 
ther giveth  me  shall  come  to  me ;"  and  a  few  verses 
farther  on  he  remarks,  "  No  man  can  come  to  me  ex- 
cept the  Father  who  hath  sent  me  draw  him ;"  and  many 
serious,  thouglitful  persons  are,  even  now,  being  taught 
this  truth. 

Were  we  to  put  their  feelings  into  language,  it  would 
be  in  such  words  as  these  :  "It  seems  to  me  to  be  a  task 
beyond  my  strength  and  ability,  to  feel  as  I  know  I 
ought  to  do.  The  more  I  study  my  own  disposition,  the 
greater  seems  the  power  of  sin  within  me.  Even  when 
I  try  to  do  right,  I  do  wrong ;  and  as  for  taking  plea- 
sure in  the  service  and  worship  of  God,  I  can  love  my 
family  and  friends — ^I  can  love  business  and  pleasure — I 
can  love  wealth  and  reputation — but  I  cannot  love  God 
and  religion  as  I  ought.  I  cannot  love  my  Bible  and 
the  Sabbath,  and  the  preached  word  and  prayer.  I 
have  tried  to  love  them.  It  alarms  me  when  I  think  of 
my  sins,  and  of  the  rapidity  with  which  my  days  are 
passing.  It  startles  me,  when  death  strikes  down  some 
of  my  friends  and  companions,  and  still  more  so,  when 
I  feel  the  power  of  disease  upon  myself.     But  the  feel- 


COMING   TO    CHRIRT.  191 

ing  soon  passes  away,  and  I  remain  the  same  that  I  was 
before.  I  am  disheartened  in  regard  to  my  soul's  well- 
being,  and  at  times  am  almost  ready  to  say,  '  I  will 
think  no  more  about  religion.'  " 

E'ow,  if  there  be  any  before  me,  whose  feelings  have 
in  some  degree  been  described  by  this  language,  I  would 
endeavor  to  meet  their  difficulty,  and  in  doing  so,  I 
would  remind  them  of  the  remark,  that  all  real  difficul- 
ties are  relieved  by  Christ.  He,  in  becoming  our  Sa- 
viour, has  in  no  respect  left  the  work  but  half  done,  and 
our  resource  is  to  go  to  him — to  go  to  him  for  every- 
thing. Repentance,  or  a  return  to  God,  is,  my  hearers, 
God^s  gift.  It  never  originated  with  the  sinner.  God 
bestows  it  through  his  Son,  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  The 
language  is,  "  Him  hath  God  exalted,  to  give  repentance 
and  remission  of  sins."  You  are  not  first  to  repent  of 
your  sins,  to  be  able  or  worthy  to  come  to  him — but  to 
come  to  him  that  you  may  be  able  to  repent.  ]S'ot  first 
to  pray  that  you  may  come  to  him,  but  to  come  to  him 
that  you  may  pray.  Not  first  to  love  him  that  you  may 
come  to  him,  but  to  come  to  him  that  you  may  love 
him.  ITot  to  be  first  melted  into  contrition,  but  to  come 
to  him  that  you  may  be  melted  into  contrition.  N^ot  to 
wait  for  deep  conviction  of  your  sins  before  you  come, . 
but  to  come  to  him  that  you  may  have  deep  convictions. 
Coming  to  Christ  always  induces  a  deeper  sense  of  sin. 
No  man  hates  sin  truly,  until  he  sees  it  in  the  sufiTering 
and  death  of  his  Lord. 

You  are  not  first  to  have  all  your  difficulties  on  the 
subject  of  religion  solved,  but  to  come  to  him,  that  your 
understanding  may  be  cleared  and  your  difficulty  re- 
moved. Christ  Jesus  is  prophet,  priest,  and  king  ;  you 
are  to  come  to  him  as  your  teacher — come  to  him  as 
your  atoning  priest — come  to  him  as  your  king,  and 
submit  to  his  word  and  his  rule.     Come  to  Hivfi.     Him 


192  THE   NEW   YORK    PULPIT. 

first — ^liim  last.  Him  alone.  Come  to  him  for  every- 
thing. Come  to  him  for  health,  if  yon  are  sick — ^for 
wealth,  if  yon  are  poor — for  help,  if  yon  are  weak — ^for 
hope,  if  yon  are  desponding — ^for  comfort  in  sorrow. 
He  is  yonr  best  friend.  He  is  a  complete  Savionr. 
He  has  resources  for  every  real  want  and  woe  of  the 
human  family.  There  is  nothing  in  the  whole  compass 
of  hnman  necessity  which  Christ  cannot  bestow,  and 
which,  if  yon  come  to  him  for  it,  and  submit  to  Jtls  v/ill, 
he  will  bestow,  if  it  can  be  made  for  your  real  good. 

This,  my  hearers,  is  the  great  truth  which  I  desire  to 
press  upon  your  hearts,  the  only  hope,  the  only  refuge, 
of  lost  man,  his  only  deliverer,  is  Jesus  Christ,  and  he 
is  a  complete  deliverer.  No  other  foundation  can  any 
man  lay,  save  that  which  is  laid,  Christ  Jesus.  Oh, 
when  will  sighing  humanity  learn  the  lesson  ?  When 
will  the  busy  philanthropists,  with  their  strong  efforts  to 
raise,  elevate,  and  bless  man,  learn  the  simple  truth? 
When  will  the  poor  struggle  to  do  right  1  "When  will 
the  worthy  moralist,  who  would  win  heaven  by  his  own 
good  deeds  ?  When  will  the  careful  and  anxious  soul 
believe  in  Christ,  believe  in  God's  Saviour,  and  trust  in 
him  alone  for  everything  which  they  need,  and  come  to 
him  to  receive  it?  Do  I  address  even  a  careless, 
thoughtless,  unfeeling  man,  one  who  cannot  make  liim- 
self  care  about  religion  as  he  knows  he  ought  to  do, 
even  to  him  I  give  the  same  direction.  Christ  Jesus  is 
his  only  hope.  He  can  give  him  feeling,  can  give  him 
repentance  ;  only  let  him  come  to  Christ  for  them.  Go 
to  Jesus,  hearers,  tell  him  all  your  difficulties,  believe 
that  he  is  able  and  willing  to  bestow  whatever  you 
need.  Say,  within  yourselves,  "  K  I  can  but  touch  the 
hem  of  his  garment,  I  shall  be  made  whole."  Let  no  one 
fear  that  he  will  not  be  received,  for  it  was  to  meet  all 
such  fears  that  our  Lord  himself  gives  the  encourage- 


COMING   TO   CHRIST.  lV6 

ment  contained  in  our  text.  Let  us,  then,  thirdly, 
dwell  a  few  moments  on  this  point.  The  encourage- 
ment we  have  to  come  to  Him.  Tlie  expression  in  the 
text  is  intended  to  be  very  strong.  The  Saviour  uses 
two  negatives,  and,  literally  translated,  it  would  read : 
"  /  will  7iot,  not  cast  out."  It  is  intended  to  convey  the 
strongest  affirmative,  as  though  he  had  said,  "  I  do  not 
only  not  cast  him  out,  but  I  embrace  liim  with  all 
the  energy  of  love.  I  will  certainly  receive  him." 
Stronger,  or  clearer  assurance  and  encouragement  than 
this,  no  one  can  or  ought  to  ask ;  the  plain,  and  positive 
declaration  from  Christ's  own  lips  should  convince 
every  one,  and  remove  all  doubt  forever.  But  though 
I  cannot  add  to  this  evidence,  yet  there  are  certain  con- 
siderations calculated  to  impress  the  truth,  and  which 
may,  therefore,  be  dwelt  upon  with  profit,  and  the  first 
of  these  which  I  mention  is,  the  character  of  Jesus,  as 
displayed  in  his  treatment  of  the  sons  of  men.  Look  at 
the  record  of  his  sojourn  upon  our  earth.  Can  you  find 
a  single  instance  of  his  rejecting,  or  refusing  a  j)roper 
request — a  request  for  any  good  ?  Did  ever  a  sick,  or 
sorrowing  one  come  to  Him  in  vain  ?  The  only  request 
which  he  refused  to  his  disciples,  was  their  desire  that 
he  would  call  down  fire  from  heaven  to  consume  the 
Samaritans.  He  preferred  to  save  them,  not  to  destroy 
them  ;  and  he  is  "  the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  for- 
ever." There  has  never  been  known  a  single  instance 
of  his  refusing  to  receive  any  who  came  to  him.  I 
challenge  the  worl(f  to  produce  one  who  can  truly  say, 
''  I  desired  to  come  to  Jesus,  and  I  did  come  ;  I  cast 
myself  at  his  feet,  I  placed  all  my  hope  on  him,  and  he 
rejected  me."  'No,  no,  he  has  often  been  compelled  to 
declare  of  men  :  "  Ye  will  not  come  to  me ;"  but  never 
has  any  man  been  able  to  say,  "  He  cast  me  out  when  I 
lay  at  his  feet;"  while  how  many  thousands  now  in 

9 


194  THE   NEW    YORK   PULPIT. 

heaven,  and  many  still  on  eartli,  will  testify  I  never 
went  to  him  in  vain. 

And  this  accords  with  what  is  said  of  him  throughout 
the  Bible.  All  the  tyj^es  by  which  he  was  prefigured, 
show  that  he  rejects  none  who  come  to  him.  Tlie 
Paschal  Lamb  was  for  all.  The  Brazen  Serpent  was  lifted 
up  in  the  sight  of  all  Israel,  and  whoever  looked  on  it 
was  healed.  The  City  of  Refuge  was  placed  on  a  hill, 
with  its  doors  open  night  and  day.  The  angel's  an- 
nouncement was  "glad  tidings  of  great  joy,  which  shall 
be  to  all  people."  The  language  of  the  prophets  was : 
"Ho,  every  one  who  thirsteth,  come  ye  to  the  w^aters." 
They  did  not  even  pause  to  describe  the  thirst.  The 
invitation  is  directed  to  every  one  who  feels  that  earth 
has  a  want  which  it  cannot  supply.  "  Come  unto  me  all 
ye  who  labor,  and  who  are  heavy  laden,"  was  Christ's 
own  invitation  ;  and  here  also  I  would  have  you  remark 
that  there  is  no  description  of  the  toil  or  the  burden. 
Be  it  what  it  may,  Jesus  bids  us  bring  it  him,  promising 
rest,  and  giving  us  the  assurance  that  if  he  does  not 
remove  it,  he  will  make  it  easy  and  light.  And  the  last 
invitation  of  the  Bible,  the  invitation  which  comes  from 
Jesus,  seated  upon  the  throne  of  his  glory,  is  the  freest 
of  all.  "  Come,  whosoever  will,  let  him  come  and  take 
of  the  water  of  life  freely P  Consider  also  his  mission, 
God  so  loved  the  world  as  to  send  his  Son.  He  came 
not  only  to  save  the  lost,  but  to  seek  them  ;  how  certain 
is  it  that  if  a  lost  one  seeks  him  he  wdll  save  him.  Con- 
sider also  what  was  required  of  him,  before  he  could  be 
placed  before  the  ruined  race  as  man's  Saviour.  The 
wrath  of  God,  the  horrors  of  an  undone  eternity,  the 
scorn  and  reproach  of  men,  the  opposition  of  Satan  with 
all  hell  in  his  train,  the  sins  of  the  world,  lay  before 
him ;  the  cross,  the  death  of  agony  and  of  ignominy 
stood  in  full  view,  and  must  be  endured  before  he  could 


COMING   TO   CHRIST.  195 

save  men,  and  yet,  in  view  of  all,  he  cries,  as  if  with 
exultation :  "  Lo,  I  come  to  do  thy  will,  O  God."  Tell 
me,  hearers,  if  he  endm-ed  all  this  in  order  that  he  mig-ht 
constitute  himself  the  hope  and  the  helper  of  man? 
Can  any  one  doubt  his  truth  when  he  says,  "  I  will  in  no 
wise  cast  out  any  who  come  to  me."  Oh,  is  it  not  injus- 
tice, ingratitude,  crime,  for  any  one  to  doubt,  for  a  single 
moment,  the  sympathy  of  Jesus  Christ,  his  readiness,  or 
his  power  to  grant  every  right  desire  of  the  sinner  who 
lies  a  suppliant  at  his  feet  ?  Come  then,  my  hearers, 
come  one  and  come  all  to  Jesus.  Thou,  sorrowing  one, 
to  receive  comfort ;  thou,  O  Christian,  to  receive  grace 
to  make  thee  what  thou  art  conscious  thou  oughtest  to 
be.  Come  ye  who  feel  that  you  are  sinners  and  desire 
pardon.  He  will  not,  not  cast  you  out.  Come  ye  care- 
less and  cold-hearted,  and  hard-hearted ;  even  thou,  O 
man,  who  say  est  to  thyself,  "  I  have  no  care  for  my 
soul ;  up  to  this  day  I  never  listened  to  a  sermon,  nor 
attended  to  a  word  in  the  Bible  ;  I  have  no  wish  to 
hear  of  Christ,  or  God,  or  eternal  things."  Yes,  even  to 
thee,  I  say  come  to  Christ  for  right  feeling.  Though 
you  have  no  care  for  your  soul,  thou  art  not  uncared 
for  ;  Christ  Jesus  cares  for  thy  soul,  and  wishes  to  save 
it.  Though  thou  dost  not  care  for  Christ,  yet  he  cares 
for  you,  and  bids  you  come  to  him  for  the  new  heart 
and  the  right  spirit.  He  says  he  will  by  no  means  cast 
thee  out.  Christ  did  not  come  into  the  world  because 
people  were  caring  about  their  souls,  but  because  we  are 
lost.  And  tJiou^  O  hardened  man,  art  the  more  lost  on 
account  of  thy  hardness.  Unless  Christ  soften  and  draw 
thee,  there  is,  above  all  others,  no  hope  for  thee. 

Are  there  any  before  me  whose  feelings  are  the 
reverse  of  these,  who  say,  in  despondency,  there  is  no 
hope  for  me  ?  No !  I  have  committed  such  great  sins ; 
I  have  so  often  resisted  the  strivings  of  God's  Spirit ;  I 


196  THE   NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

am  so  old  in  sin,  there  is  no  hope,  no,  no  hope.  To 
you  Jesus  says:  "/am  thy  hope,  thou  hast,  indeed,  no 
other.  Thou  hast  destroyed  thyself,  but  in  me  there  is 
help,  certain  help.  I  came  to  save  such  as  thee.  Come, 
1  will  in  no  wise  cast  thee  out." 


XIY. 
WHAT  SHALL  I  DO  TO  BE  SAYED  ? 

BY  WM.  IVES  BUDINGTON,  D.D., 

Pastor  of  the,  Clinton  Avenue  Congregational  Chv/rch. 

Sirs,  what  must  I  do  to  be  saved  ?  And  they  said,  Believe  on  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  and  thou  shalt  be  saved,  and  thy  house. — Acts  xvi.  30,  31. 

The  first  thing  that  demands  our  notice  in  the  inquiry 
of  the  deeply  anxious  jailer  is  the  difference  between  it 
and  the  question  of  the  young  ruler,  "  What  good  thing 
shall  I  do  that  I  may  have  eternal  life?"  The  jailer's 
is  a  cry  for  deliverance  as  from  a  present  and  fearful 
calamity:  the  ruler's  language  is  that  of  a  trafficker 
who  would  do  one  great  good  to  purchase  another ;  or, 
at  best,  it  is  that  of  a  hero,  who  would  win  a  prize  by 
some  high  endeavor.  The  stand-point  of  the  two  in- 
quirers is  not  only  unlike,  but  opposite.  The  man  who 
has  no  consciousness  of  sin,  or  of  danger  because  of  sin, 
simply  asks.  How  shall  I  attain  an  infinite  good  ?  He 
merely  contemplates  a  world  of  brightness,  whose  sunny 
skies  are  never  traversed  by  a  cloud,  and  whose  days 
never  set  in  darkness;  and  he  would  know  how  to 
reach  it.  On  the  contrary,  he  who  feels  himself  to  be 
under  sin,  doing  not  what  he  would,  but  what  he  hates ; 
who  feels  that  dark  and  heavy  clouds  are  gathering  on 
his  horizon,  and  fast  rising  and  circling  around  him ;  it  is 
for  light  and  deliverance  that  such  a  man  calls  ;  "  Oh,  that 
these  clouds  might  roll  away,  that  the  sun-light  might 

197 


198  THE   NEW   YORK    PULPIT. 

pierce  them,  and  warm  my  heart  as  with  God's  approv- 
ing smile!" 

lS[ow  it  does  not  admit  of  a  question,  that  the  religion 
of  the  gospel  is  presented  to  ns  as  balm  for  the  wounded 
heart,  the  remedy  for  disease,  deliverance  for  the  cap- 
tive. It  does  not  hold  before  us  in  the  distant  heavens 
a  crown  of  glory,  and  say  to  the  strong  and  ambitious, 
Seize  it !  It  is  not  merely  an  appeal  to  the  aspiration 
of  the  human  heart,  but  it  comes  "to  seek  and  save 
the  lost ;"  to  give  "  rest  to  all  that  labor  and  are  heavy 
laden."  It  is  not  enough  for  a  man  to  say,  "  I  am  igno- 
rant, and  I  desire  to  be  enlightened."  This  will  not 
give  him  the  needed  preparation  to  open  the  Scriptures 
and  learn  their  contents.  The  great  object  of  the  gospe^ 
is  not  to  convey  intelligence  on  spiritual  and  eternal 
things.  This,  indeed  it  does  incidentally,  but  ever  sub- 
ordinately  to  its  chief  end  of  saving  the  sinful.  Nor, 
again,  is  it  sufficient  for  a  man  to  say,  "  I  feel  an  aching 
void  within  me,  and  I  am  persuaded  that  my  nature  is 
fitted  for  and  requires  something  higher  and  better  than 
earth.  I  aspire  after  an  infinite  good."  This,  indeed, 
is  in  itself  most  proper,  and  of  all  aspirations  is  the 
noblest ;  but  this  alone  does  not  prepare  a  soul  to  under- 
stand and  receive  that  gospel  of  the  grace  of  God,  which 
comes  to  the  undeserving,  which  is,  from  first  to  last,  a 
salvation,  and  to  which  the  pre-requisite,  absolute  and 
indispensable,  is  the  sense  of  sin,  the  conscious  need  of 
being  saved. 

Behold,  my  hearers,  how  multiform  and  abounding  are 
the  evidences  that  salvation  is  the  whole  theme  and  bur- 
den of  the  gospel  of  Christ.  The  very  name  he  received 
upon  coming  into  the  world  indicated  the  purpose  for 
which  he  came.  "  Tliou  shalt  call  his  name  Jesus,"  said 
the  angel  of  annunciation,  '•'for  he  shall  save  his  people 
from  their  sins."     "Kepent  ye,  for   the  kingdom   of 


WHAT    SHALL   I   DO   TO    BE   SAVED?  199 

heaven  is  at  hand,"  was  the  preaching  of  Christ's  fore- 
runner, and  of  Christ  himself,  at  the  beginning  of  his 
ministry ;  heralding  this  great  truth,  that  the  sense  and 
confession  of  sin  was  the  one  thing  essential  to  the  re- 
ception of  Christ.  "  I  came  not,"  he  afterwards  said, 
"  to  call  the  righteous,  but  sinners  to  repentance."  "  I 
am  not  sent  but  unto  the  lost  sheep  of  the  house  of 
Israel."  And  what  is  the  representation  given  us  in 
the  Apocalyptic  visions  of  St.  John?  Do  not  the  re- 
deemed cast  down  their  crowns  before  the  Lamb,  say- 
ing, "  For  thou  art  worthy,  for  thou  hast  redeemed  us 
to  God  by  thy  blood?" 

It  cannot  be  doubted,  therefore,  that  the  gospel  is  a 
salvation ;  and  to  those  of  you  who  not  only  are,  but 
fed  that  you  are  sinners,  and  under  the  burden  desire 
release,  the  message  of  the  gospel  will  be  at  once 
intelligible  and  welcome  !  '^  Believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  and  thou  shalt  be  saved." 

It  would  seem  incredible,  it  must  be  confessed,  that  a 
mere  belief  of  any  kind  should  have  power  enough  to 
effect  a  salvation,  stopping  not  short  of  a  transformation 
of  character  and  a  reversal  of  eternal  destinies.  But 
the  record  is  clear  and  unmistakable,  that  our  redemp- 
tion from  sin  and  death  turns  upon  our  believing  in  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Tliere  are  some  things,  which  it 
is  quite  immaterial  whether  one  believe  or  not.  But 
there  is  one  belief  which  makes  all  the  difference  in 
the  w^orld.  To  believe  in  Christ,  in  his  character  and 
services,  in  his  present  power  and  purposes,  that  though 
he  was  God  and  with  God,  he  became  a  man  witli  men ; 
that  though  he  was  rich  he  became  poor;  though  he 
was  sinless,  he  became  a  sin-offering ;  and  that  having 
died  and  risen  and  ascended,  he  is  now  "  exalted  to  be  a 
Prince  and  a  Saviour,  to  give  repentance  and  remission 
of  sins  ;" — to  believe  this,  to  have  this  revelation  stand 


200  THE   NEW   YORK   PULPIT. 

forth  before  tlie  mind's  eje,  as  the  wonder  of  angels,  the 
song  of  the  redeemed,  the  hope  of  men  ;  this  is  an  era 
in  any  man's  history,  rising  immeasurably  above  all 
others ;  it  is  a  change  amounting  to  a  new  birth  ;  it 
makes  the  man  a  new  man,  opening  within  him  a  foun- 
tain of  new  and  tender  and  holy  affections,  producing 
childship,  and  bringing .  nigh  to  God  the  Father,  as 
a  brother  to  Christ  the  Son  of  God,  the  heir  of  all 
things !  It  is  faith  in  a  person,  not  in  a  principle  or  a 
fact,  an  existing  person,  that  he  lives  and  loves  as  truly 
as  he  did  when  he  became  a  tenant  of  the  manger;  as 
truly  as  when,  in  death,  he  breathed  forgiveness  from 
the  cross  over  the  multitude  whose  faces  were  upturned 
in  careless  scorn  or  fierce  malignity. 

E'ow  thus  to  believe  in  Christ  is  to  be  saved  ;  that  is, 
to  begin  the  experience  of  salvation  at  once,  and  be  in 
the  way  to  all  that  it  imports  forever  hereafter.  In 
this  salvation,  we  may  distinguish  these  three  things : 
a  present  victory  over  sin  and  temptation,  assurance 
of  God's  forgiving  love,  and  a  settled  peace.  K  it  can 
be  shown  that  faith  in  Christ  effects  each  and  all  of 
these  three  things,  an  inward  renewal,  an  outward  hope 
before  God,  and  the  peace  of  a  perfect  love  that  casts 
out  fear,  then  surely  it  will  be  acknowledged  that 
believing  in  Christ  we  are  saved. 

1.  Let  us  look,  then,  first  at  the  effect  of  faith  in  the 
crucified  Son  of  God  in  delivering  from  the  love  and 
dominion  of  sin. 

Believing  in  Christ  you  love  him,  and,  loving  him, 
you  love  what  he  loves,  and  hate  what  he  hates,  and 
this  is  holiness.  Believing  in  Christ,  you  will  say,  my 
Lord  did  this  and  I  will  do  it  for  his  dear  sake ;  my 
Lord  walked  here,  and  here  I  will  walk,  remembering 
him  ;  these  are  his  words,  and  I  will  keep  them,  ponder- 
ing them  in  my  heart,  and  thus  will  I  love  him  and  show 


WHAT    SHALL   I   DO   TO   BE    SAVED?  201 

my  love.  lie  has  friends  in  the  world,  and  to  their 
company  I  will  join  myself,  sorrowing  in  their  sorrow, 
and  rejoicing  in  their  joy.  He  has  established  his 
church  among  men,  and 

For  her  my  tears  shall  fall, 

For  her  my  prayers  ascend ; 
To  her  my  cares  and  toils  be  given, 

Till  toils  and  cares  shall  end. 

In  one  word,  Christ  is  my  friend,  my  best  friend.  He 
has  laid  me  under  infinite  obligations,  and  I  will  be  his 
friend,  I  will  give  him  my  warmest,  deepest,  most  con- 
stant love.  Such  a  faith  as  this  saves,  and  is  salvation  ; 
and  it  is  the  only  power  that  really  can  bring  salvation. 
Tlie  law  cannot,  the  loveliness  of  virtue  cannot,  nor  yet 
the  deformity  of  vice ;  but  the  grateful  sense  of  a 
Saviour  can !  Love  awakens  love  ;  it  is  the  strongest 
influence  we  receive,  the  strongest  we  put  forth.  A 
divine  love  for  us,  towards  us,  and  in  us,  endows  us  with 
a  divine  power  to  follow  after  holiness  and  realize  it. 
When  the  sense  of  a  Saviour's  love  awakens  in  your 
lieart  love  to  Christ,  you  will,  for  his  sake,  be  strong  to 
do  and  to  suffer  what  otherwise  you  were  too  weak  to 
do.  "  Tlie  love  of  Christ  will  constrain"  you,  as  it  did 
Paul,  "  to  live  henceforth,  not  unto  yourself,  but  unto 
him  who  died  for  you  and  rose  again,"  and  simply  for  this 
reason,  that  Christ  desires  it,  that  he  died  for  this  end. 
Tiiis  is  the  whole  philosophy  of  your  salvation.  You 
love  Christ,  and  your  love  to  him  is  the  attraction  that 
draws  you  after  him,  away  from  sin,  upwards  and  along 
the  "mountain  track"  of  purity  and  of  duty.  The  first 
effect  of  love  to  Christ,  therefore,  is  to  renew  the  soul  in 
love  to  him.  It  makes  the  believer  a  new  man  in  his 
desires  and  purposes ;  it  is  with  him  a  simple  matter  of 
experience  ;  he  feels  it,  and  knows  it. 


202  THE   NEW   YORK    PULPIT. 

2.  Faith  likewise  saves,  because  it  inspires  the  soul  with 
a  coniident  hoj)e  of  the  forgiveness  of  sins.  And  this, 
because  it  is  promised,  because  of  a  direct  and  solemn 
asseveration.  The  believer  in  Christ  is  forgiven  already, 
and  will  be  forgiven  publicly  at  the  last  day.  "  Yerily, 
verily,  I  say  unto  you,  he  that  heareth  my  word,  and 
belie veth  in  Him  that  sent  me,  hath  everlasting  life,  and 
shall  not  come  into  condemnation,  but  is  passed  from 
death  unto  life."  This  cuts  off  argument,  and  silences 
reply.  We  have  a  Thus  saith  the  Lord  j  the  believer 
is  forgiven,  because  God  has  spoken  it  and  will  make  it 
good ;  and  he  knows  it,  because  he  believes  God,  and 
his  assurance  of  forgiveness  will  be  calm  and  lofty  and 
imperturbable,  just  as  he  is  able  firmly  and  unfalter- 
ingly to  believe.  So  emphatically  is  faith  salvation, 
that  God  promises  forgiveness  upon  the  condition  of 
faith,  and  faith  is  also  the  sense  of  forgiveness. 

3.  Once  more,  faith  in  Christ  is  salvation,  because  it 
gives  peace.  This  is  oftentimes  and  usually  the  earliest 
effect  of  faith  in  Christ  as  a  Saviour,  so  that  the  young 
convert  commonly  thinks  himself  a  believer,  because 
his  faith  brings  him  peace.  I  know  that  some  do  not 
realize  this  peace,  and  go  seeking  for  it  many  painful 
days.  But  such  believers  look  for  comfort  to  themselves, 
when  it  can  be  found  only  by  looking  away  from  one's 
self  to  Christ.  Whosoever  learns  this  first  great  lesson, 
to  look  away  from  himself,  and  forget  himself,  to  look 
to  another,  know  that  his  help  comes  to  him  from  with- 
out, to  look  to  Christ  adoringly,  trustingly — and  there 
is  nothing  so  radically  opposite  to  selfishness  as  this — 
whosoever  can  do  this,  and  has  done  it,  finds  peace. 
The  eye  fills  with  light,  only  by  looking  away  from  itself 
to  the  sun-light  that  is  perpetually  flooding  the  heavens. 
He  enjoys  nature  the  most,  who,  forgetting  himself,  is 
absorbed  in  the  beauty  and  grandeur  of  the  Creator's 


WHAT    SHALL    I   DO   TO    BE   SAVED?  203 

works.  It  is  equally  so  with  Christ  and  joy  in  him! 
He  is  the  "  light  of  men ;"  the  Father's  love  streams 
upon  us  from  the  face  of  Christ ;  he  is  at  once  the  ex- 
hanstless  fountain  of  grace,  and  the  very  embodiment  of 
God's  love  ;  and  really  to  believe  this,  that  is,  to  have  a 
felt  sense  of  it,  is  to  have  a  peace  which  the  world  can 
neither  give  nor  take  away. 

What,  then,*is  lacking  to  prove  that  faith  in  Christ 
saves  ?  K  it  redeems  from  the  love  and  practice  of  sin  ; 
if  it  entitles  to  forgiveness  at  the  hand  of  God ;  if  it 
gives  peace,  what  more  can  salvation  be?  K  these 
three  things  be  in  you,  and  abound,  what  more  can  you 
ask,  what  more  can  you  have,  what  more  desire  ?  Yet 
faith  in  Christ  does  this ;  has  done  it  many  millions 
of  times,  is  doing  it  now,  and  will  do  it  for  you  1 
Will  you  not,  then,  believe,  and  believe  now,  just  where 
you  are,  and  as  you  are  ?  Observe  and  bear  carefully 
in  mind  these  two  things : 

1.  That  your  present,  your  only  duty,  is  believing. 
Tliis  stands  next  to  you.  You  have  not  to  do  other 
things  first,  and  this  afterwards ;  but  this  first,  and  all 
other  things  afterwards.  You  are  not  to  make  yourself 
worthy  to  go  to  Christ  and  fit  to  believe,  but  going  to 
Christ,  to  hecome  worthy  of  him,  believing  in  Christ  to 
acquire  fitness.  The  positive  declaration  of  the  text, 
that  you  are  to  be  saved  by  believing  in  Christ,  denies, 
in  the  most  emphatic  manner,  that  you  can  begin  your 
salvation  before  you  believe,  or  by  any  good  act  of  your 
own,  merit  eternal  life.  Works  of  supererogation  are 
out  of  the  question.  All  you  can  do  God  requires  ;  and 
once  failing  this,  you  cannot  merit  life.  The  condemna- 
tion of  God's  violated  law  is  upon  you,  your  powers  are 
enfeebled,  and  self-restoration  is  impossible.  Sin  once 
committed,  you  cannot  look  to  yourself,  or  to  any  per- 
formances of  your  own  to  save  you.     First  of  all,  you 


204  THE    NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

need  forgiveness,  and  this  is  promised  only  to  faith  ;  you 
need  renewing,  and  this  is  effected  only  by  believing;  you 
need  peace  for  the  present  and  hope  for  the  future,  and 
these  are  the  fruits  of  faith.  Accept,  then,  of  Christ  at 
once,  without  attemj^ting  any  preliminary  work.  Nothing 
but  the  sense  of  sin  is  necessary  to  make  salvation  real 
and  welcome.  And  do  not  wait  for  any  deeper  sense  of 
sin  than  you  now  possess  ;  let  what  you  -have  lead  you 
to  Christ  before  it  forsake  you.  K  you  have  one  sin  to 
confess  and  to  be  forgiven,  go  to  Christ.  You  may  each 
of  you  believe  now,  you  ought  to  believe,  you  must  be- 
lieve, if  you  would  be  saved. 

2.  But  do  not  expect  too  much  as  involved  in  the  act 
of  believing. 

If  you  imagine  that  to  believe  is  all,  that  a  single  act 
of  faith  perfects  your  character,  you  will  make  a  cala- 
mitous mistake.  You  will  suppose  that  you  have  not 
believed,  when  you  have  ;  and  so  you  will  be  looking 
for  something  that  can  never  come,  and  which,  if  it  ever 
seemed  to  come,  would  be  the  worst  of  delusions. 
Believing  is  but  beginning.  It  is  for  the  past  forgive- 
ness of  sins,  and  for  the  future  the  working  powder  by 
which,  through  grace,  you  are  to  work  out  your  salva- 
tion. The  doctrine  is  briefly  this.  The  road  to  heaven 
begins  at  the  gateway  of  faith.  A  true  sanctification 
has  for  its  beginning  the  confession  of  sins  and  reliance 
upon  Christ  for  forgiveness,  and  for  its  ending  the 
same ;  the  first  act  and  the  last  is  the  same  ;  the  motive 
power  that  carries  the  believer  all  along  the  highway 
of  a  glorious  sanctification  is  love  to  Christ,  the  Saviour. 
Do  not  mistake  upon  a  point  so  plain  and  fundamental 
as  this.  There  is  only  one  thing  in  religion,  which  is 
sudden,  instantaneous,  and  complete  in  a  moment — and 
this  is  the  beginning.  Conversion,  from  the  very  na- 
ture of  the  case,  must  be  instantaneous.     There  must  be 


WHAT    SHALL   I    DO   TO   BE   SAVED?  205 

a  moment  in  wliicli  the  act  of  turning  takes  place,  but 
thereafter  there  will  be  a  progressive  growth  in  all 
virtue  and  loveliness  of  character.  To  be  a  Christian 
in  a  true  and  proper  sense,  is  to  awake  to  the  sense  of 
sin,  and  under  the  burden  of  it  to  cast  one's  self  upon 
Christ,  as  the  Saviour  of  sinners,  in  gratitude  and  hope. 
To  be  a  Christian  in  a  still  truer  and  more  proper  sense, 
is  to  have  travelled  far  and  long  towards  the  goal  of 
conformity  to  Christ,  until,  shining  in  the  light  and 
wearing  the  lineaments  of  his  character,  the  believer  is 
a  Christian  in  the  sense  of  being  Christ-like !  "  The 
salvation  of  your  soul,"  says  the  Apostle  Peter,  "  is  the 
end  of  your  faith."  It  is  in  its  fullness  a  perfection  of 
character,  unsullied  by  a  stain  ;  such  a  love  and  know- 
ledge of  Christ  as,  with  mirror-like  fidelity,  gives  back 
the  image  of  his  glory.  It  is  lamentable  ignorance  of 
what  it  is  to  be  a  Christian,  to  suppose  that  it  is  possible 
to  be  all  it  implies  all  at  once.  E'o  !  it  is  the  gradual 
detection  and  correction  of  mistakes,  of  shortcomings 
and  transgressions ;  it  is  the  evolution,  by  degrees,  of 
all  that  is  in  us  by  nature  ;  successive  and  surprising 
discoveries  of  what  had  lain  all  unrevealed  to  conscious- 
ness before,  or  at  least  to  conscience ;  and  in  the  light 
of  this  better  self-knowledge,  the  mortification  of  all 
that  is  wrong,  and  the  engrafting  and  substitution  of 
the  right,  the  beautiful,  and  the  true.  Did  those  twelve 
men,  who  were  privileged  for  three  years  to  accompany 
the  person  of  our  Lord,  become  Christians  all  at  once  ? 
The  time  of  trial  came,  and  the  storm  broke  upon  the 
the  head  of  their  Master  ;  and  what  is  written  of  those 
disciples,  but  that  all  of  them  forsook  him  and  fled? 
Peter  did  more  than  desert  him,  he  denied  him  with  an 
oath.  And  so  deep  went  that  after  repentance,  so  bitter 
were  the  tears  he  shed,  and  so  much  did  they  wash 
away,  that  our  Lord   called  it  a  second   conversion. 


206  THE   NEW   YORK    PULPIT. 

"  "When  tlioii  art  converted,  strengtlien  tliy  brethren." 
Many  a  Christian — nay,  most — after  they  have  set  out 
in  the  divine  life,  and  learn  how  much  it  imports  to  be 
a  Christian,  how  much  in  their  hearts  stands  in  the  way 
of  it,  how  hardly  and  how  slowly  they  make  any  per- 
ceptible progress ;  doubt  if  they  are  disciples  at  all ; 
and  yet  because  they  are,  they  are  not  left  to  abandon 
the  effort,  but  "  are  kept  by  the  power  of  God,  through 
faith,  unto  salvation." 

But  the  greatness  of  the  work  to  be  done  makes  an 
immediate  begiuning  the  more  necessary  and  urgent, 
that  beginning  which  is  true  and  hopeful ;  that  you 
confess  your  sins,  and  look  gratefully,  obediently  to 
Christ,  the  author  and  finisher  of  your  faith.  This 
beginning  is  your  duty  and  your  privilege  to-day ;  it  is 
even  now  within  your  reach.  "Believe  in  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  and  thou  shalt  be  saved ;"  you  shall  have 
a  present,  progressive,  and  everlasting  salvation.  Tlie 
guilt  of  sin  shall  be  pardoned  ;  the  power  of  sin  broken ; 
and  the  effects  of  sin  for  ever  supplanted  by  the  grace 
of  God. 


XY. 

MEN  TO  BE  EECO]^CILED  TO  GOD,  THEOUGH 
CHEIST. 

BY  R.  S.  STORES,  Jr.,  D.D. 

Pastor  of  the  Church  of  the  Pilgrims,  Brooklyn. 

We  pray  you,  in  Christ's  stead,  be  ye  reconciled  to  God. — 2  Cob. 
V.  20.     (Last  clause.) 

To  be  reconciled  to  God ! — ^it  is  necessarily  the  first 
and  greatest  want  of  all  His  intelKgent  and  immortal 
creatures  who  are  in  any  way  alienated  from  him.  It 
is,  as  human  history  testifies,  the  vague,  but  real  and 
imperative  longing  of  human  nature  itself,  underlying 
all  others,  more  permanent  than  they.  All  systems  of 
heathenism,  with  their  sacrifices  and  penances,  their 
instituted  priesthoods,  their  costly  offerings,  their  de- 
stroying pilgrimages,  their  smoking  piles  and  bloody 
immolations,  are  built  at  the  base  on  this  desii-e  :  to  be 
reconciled  to  God  !  By  them  human  nature  is  sought  to 
be  elevated ;  by  them  the  Divine  Being  is  sought  to  be 
propitiated ;  till  the  creature  and  the  Creator,  respect- 
ively arising  and  descending  from  their  positions,  shall 
meet  upon  the  plane  of  Eeconciliation.  The  same  desire 
is  indicated  as  well,  is  shown  with  appealing  fer- 
vor and  emphasis,  in  the  poetry  of  the  world.  Tlie  same 
good  is  recognized  as  the  great  good  of  man,  by  its 
noblest  philosophy,  its  most  searching  and  elevated 
moral  instructions. 

207 


203  THE    NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

For  it  is  a  fact  wliicli  we  cannot  fail  to  recognize  and 
feel,  as  we  clearly  in^'estigate  tlie  condition  of  man, 
either  in  tlie  individual  or  in  tlie  mass,  that  he  is  5iot 
now  in  sympathy  with  God;  that  he  does  not  now 
cooperate  with  him,  or  stand  in  a  filial  relation  towards 
him.  It  is  a  fact  to  w^hich  conscience  emphatically  tes- 
tifies ;  of  the  inward  conviction  of  which  no  man  can 
get  rid.  A  sense  of  severance  and  remoteness  from 
God,  a  vague  impression  of  responsive  repellency  and 
condemnation  on  his  part — tliis  is  at  the  bottom  of  all 
the  unrest,  the  fearful  apprehension,  the  dark  antici- 
pation, the  swayings  back  and  forth  of  religious  oj^inion, 
oscillating  for  ever  between  skepticism  and  superstition, 
w^hich  confront  us  in  history.  And  this  each  man  will 
find  for  himself,  in  his  own  moral  consciousness,  as  he 
calmly  considers  it,  or  lets  it  frankly  and  freely  speak. 

Our  relations  to  God  should  be  more  intimate  than  to 
any  other  being ;  as  he  is  naturally  nearer  to  us  than  any 
other,  fulfilling  ofiices  for  us  the  most  constant  and 
essential,  as  our  Creator,  Preserver,  Benefactor.  Our 
relations  to  Him  should  be  those  of  perfect  mutual  con- 
fidence, with  an  even  unbounded  love  and  gladness. 
A  filial,  adoring  afiection  on  our  part,  uttering  itself  in  all 
forms  of  activity,  and  making  every  work  a  worship  ;  a 
divine  benignity  and  tenderness  on  his  part,  replying  to 
our  love — tliese  should  mark  our  relation  to  him.  They 
should  be  relations  of  conscious  spiritual  intercourse 
indeed,  and  of  the  utmost  assimilation  and  sympathy  of 
S])irit  and  thought.  The  possibility  of  this  is  conceivable 
by  us,  and  the  simple  possibility  is  proof  that  we  should 
realize  it;  as  conscience  and  reason  conspire  to  assure  us. 

But  instead  of  this,  our  relations  to  God  are,  as  we 
know,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  relations  of  distance,  of  alien- 
ation and  coldness,  of  an  utter  want  of  afi'ectionate  sym- 
pathy and  intelligent  communion.     We  do  not  like  to 


MEN  TO  BE  RECONCILED  TO  GOD,  THROUGH  CHRIST.  209 

retain  God  in  our  tlionglits.  He  gives  ns  no  pledge, 
tliroiigh  that  sense  of  security  which  the  angels  feel,  and 
which  Christians  on  earth  know  the  foretaste  of,  that  he 
either  loves  us,  or  regards  ns  with  any  moral  compla- 
cence. We  know,  on  the  other  hand,  every  man  for 
himself,  that  onr  attitude  towards  God,  though  natural, 
is  not  normal ;  that  we  are  far  from  him  in  temper  and 
in  tastes,  while  yet  his  government  always  surrounds 
us,  and  his  person  is  nearer  at  every  moment  than  that 
of  any  most  valued  friend. 

He  surrounds  us,  surveys  us,  upholds  us,  directs  us, 
in  his  continual  providential  administration,  at  every  part 
and  instant  of  our  being ;  he  is  with  us  in  our  dwellings, 
our  walks,  our  solitudes ;  is  with  us  in  our  business,  as 
well  as  in  our  rest ;  is  with  us  through  life,  and  is  with 
us  wherever  the  mystery  of  Death  at  last  arrests  and 
overshadows  the  soul.  And  yet  we  do  not  feel  ourselves 
near  to  him,  in  moral  correspondence,  in  the  sympathy 
of  purpose,  the  communion  of  thought,  the  sweet  inter- 
change of  affection.  And  it  would  be  a  positive  relief 
to  us  sometimes,  while  we  remain  in  this  our  usual  moral 
state,  if  either  he  or  we  were  annihilated !  if  we  could 
feel  that  he  would  no  more  reach  us  where  we  are  ;  or  if 
we  could  remove  to  some  remote  planet  where  his  pre- 
sence and  government  should  cease  to  pursue  us.  If  men 
had  the  power,  in  such  awful  moments  of  conscious  an- 
tagonism, they  would  put  the  Deity  out  of  existence,  in 
order  to  be  rid  of  this  oppressive  and  constant  sense  of 
distance  from  him,  and  of  mutual  alienation.  If  their 
thoughts  were  then  thunderbolts,  not  even  the  glorious 
wisdom  of  God,  his  unmatched  goodness,  would  shield 
him  from  their  stroke  ! 

This  we  know,  as  I  said,  each  man  for  himself.  And 
however  we  may  be  inclined  to  forget  it,  and  to  reason 
about  the  dignity  of  our  nature,  as  if  the  mere  consti- 


210  THE   NEW   YORK    PULPIT. 

tiition  of  our  being  were  enough  of  itself  to  ally  ns  with 
God,  no  reasoning  and  no  rhetoric  can  hide  from  ns  the 
facts,  which  are  plain  and  palpable  at  the  centre  ot  onr 
consciousness — that  we  do  not  stand  towards  him  as  we 
should  do;  that  instead  of  being  in  sympathy  with  him, 
we  are  in  a  state  of  alienation  and  severance.  No  man, 
it  seems  to  me,  whether  he  acknowledges  the  Scriptures 
or  not,  can  attentively  survey  his  own  inner  life,  can 
analyze  his  conduct  to  its  principles  and  motives,  with- 
out keenly  feeling  this.  It  is,  indeed,  the  wail  of  the 
World;  the  ever  re-appearing  refrain  of  poetry;  the 
Tinder-beat  of  the  deepest  philosophy;  ^the  still,  sad 
music  of  humanity.' 

It  is,  then,  the  instant  suggestion  of  reason,  it  is  the 
imperative  mandate  of  prudence,  that  we  should  seek  in 
some  way  at  once,  and  in  some  sufficient  and  authorized 
way,  to  be  '  reconciled '  to  God.  It  is  Death  to  be  at  war 
with  him !  Death  certain,  remediless,  perfect,  fearful ! 
It  is  the  destruction  of  every  hope  ;  the  utter  overthrow 
of  all  our  dearest  and  most  cherished  desires ;  the  par- 
alysis of  the  soul,  for  every  good  and  every  joy !  For 
GOD  is  the  Supreme  One  !  He  turns  the  earth  to  the  sun 
in  the  morning,  and  carries  it  through  its  swift  revolu- 
tion, bringing  the  shadow  of  evening  in  its  season,  with 
only  a  silent  motion  of  his  will.  He  holds  the  sun  itself 
in  its  place,  and  yet  bears  it  onward,  with  the  planets 
around  it,  through  the  realms  of  the  vast  and  unseen 
ether,  from  age  to  age,  without  one  eiibrt.  He  makes  all 
w^orlds  obedient  to  his  will ;  establishing  all  their  laws  by 
his  word,  sustaining  their  forces  by  his  decree,  and  hold- 
ing them  up  at  every  moment  from  the  abysm  of  nothing- 
ness over  which  he  equally  at  the  outset  suspended  them. 
And  there  is  no  effect  conceivable  by  us,  too  great  for 
his  power,  or  which,  as  matched  against  that  powei,  is 
great  at  all;  as  there  is%io  relation  or  fact,  too  secret 


MEN  TO  BE  KECONCILED  TO  GOD,  THROUGH  CHRIST.     211 

for  liis  knowledge,  no  existence  too  remote  to  be  infolded 
by  his  presence ! 

To  sin  against  Him,  therefore,  to  be  in  a  state  of  hos- 
tility toward  God — ^it  is  certain  destruction  to  any  of  his 
creatures.  If  it  is  not  annihilation,  it  is  only  because  it  is 
something  more  fearful  than  even  annihilation !  It  were 
better  that  we  bared  our  brow  to  the  lightning,  and  dared 
it  to  smite  us  ;  better  that  we  stood  beneath  the  mountain 
in  its  fall,  and  defied  it  to  crush  us  ;  that  we  planted  our- 
selves in  the  path  of  the  ocean,  when  it  rises  in  its  might 
and  sweeps  leagues  landward  with  the  rush  of  its  billows ; 
or  faced  the  conflagration,  and  refused  to  retreat  when 
it  rushes  over  squares  and  lays  cities  in  the  dust ;  better 
either  of  these,  better  anything  else,  than  that  we 
opposed  or  withstood  His  power,  to  which  all  these  are 
subordinate  and  trifling  !  A  breath  of  his  will,  and  we 
perish  on  the  instant.  One  motion  of  his  mind,  and  every 
faculty  and  force  of  our  being  ceases  to  be,  or  becomes 
the  abode  of  intolerable  pain. 

Nor  only  because  of  these  measureless  perils  attend- 
ing the  want  of  it,  is  it  the  greatest  good  of  man  to  be 
reconciled  to  God ;  but,  equally,  because  of  the  good  to 
be  realized,  the  unmatched  and  unspeakable  spiritual 
goods,  to  be  gained  through  that !  The  same  powers  and 
prerogatives  which  make  God  so  fearful  and  terrible  as 
an  enemy,  make  him  equally  supreme  as  a  benefac- 
tor to  his  friends ;  the  author,  by  necessity,  of  ben- 
efits to  them  which  our  poor  words  cannot  express, 
because  they  are  great  as  our  immortality,  which  lan- 
guage cannot  compass;  because  they  are  vast  as  his 
infinitude,  before  which  thought  itself  grows  weak  ! 
Simply  to  love  a  being  like  God,  so  great  and  pure,  and 
constant  in  his  glory — ^it  is  of  itself,  to  every  intelligence, 
the  highest  good  !  as  it  is  the  one  infinite  evil  and  mis- 
chief to  be  in  any  way  dissevered  from  Him !      To  be 


212  THE   NEW   TOEK   PULPIT. 

in  heart  affiliated  -with.  God,  to  feel  his  strength,  wis- 
dom and  grace  flowing  in  npon  ns,  and  filling  our  souls 
as  with  rivers  of  peace — every  mind  must  instinctively 
recognize  that  as  the  highest  possible  attainment  of  our 
nature;  in  which  that  nature  is  consummated  and 
crowned,  made  free  of  the  world,  supreme  above  chance, 
and  ready  for  immortality ! 

Around  this,  too,  all  other  great  attainments  and 
delights  are  naturally  gathered,  and  through  it  they  all 
are  to  be  realized.  Tlie  utmost  assurance  of  security  and 
safeness ;  the  promise  of  a  knowledge,  a  heavenly  wis- 
dom, which  is  as  yet  unimaginable  by  us ;  affiliation 
with  all  celestial  beings  ;  the  perfection  of  purity ;  the 
keenest  delight  and  ecstasy  of  soul ;  a  joy  which  the  cen- 
turies of  heaven  itself  cannot  outlast,  and  shall  only  accu- 
mulate ; — all  that  God  can  'bestow^  whose  resources  are 
of  course  yet  unknown  to  us ;  all  that  m,an  can  receive, 
whose  soul  in  its  deep  and  vast  capacities  hath  not  been 
fully  sounded  and  measured  by  any  experience ;  all 
this,  prolonged  through  the  cycles  of  the  Future,  is  the 
natural  inheritance  of  him  who  hath  God  for  his  father 
and  friend,  who  is  in  his  soul  affined  to  him  ! 

We  cannot  fully  tell  what  shall  be  the  nature  or  the 
greatness  of  his  inheritance !  Thanks  to  God  that  we 
cannot !  We  only  know  that  it  surpasses  our  thought ; 
and  that  they  who  have  seen  it  declare  it  to  be,  as  we 
should  know  from  God's  greatness  that  it  must  be,  in  its 
glory  unspeakable  !  The  utmost  scope  and  height  of  lan- 
guage fails  and  is  baffled  before  the  greatness  of  this 
theme.  It  is  one  of  the  noblest  of  all  the  attractions  which 
to  the  believer  are  grouped  about  heaven,  that  we  cannot 
foresee  what  shall  be  there;  and  that  only  when  we 
reach  that  world  shall  we  know  fully,  what  now  from 
limitation  of  nature  we  cannot  know,  what  "  God  hath 
prepared  for  them  that  love  him." 


MEN  TO  BE  RECONCILED  TO  GOD,  THROUGH  CHRIST.  213 

It  is,  therefore,  in  every  view — on  account  of  both  its 
negative  and  its  positive  relations,  because  it  shields  iis 
from  central  ruin,  and  because  it  assures  us  of  immeasu- 
rable benefits — the  grandest  good  for  man,  to  be  in  the 
truest  sense  "reconciled  to  God!"  Unless  he  is  so, 
he  has  no  real  and  permanent  good,  in  possession  or  in 
prospect.  The  want  of  this,  to  the  thoughtful  mind, 
makes  all  prosperity  precarious  and  poor.  The  want  of 
this  makes  a  full  and  permanent  peace  in  the  soul  a 
thing  impossible.  The  attainment  of  this  must  give  an 
element  of  constant,  quick,  inexhaustible  delight,  even 
to  those  most  wearied  and  harassed.  The  beams  of  joy 
parting  the  clouds  shall  shine  on  such  and  make  their  very 
trouble  radiant.  For,  according  as  we  stand  to  the  Sove- 
reign of  the  universe,  that  universe  is  to  us  a  palace  or  a 
prison !  According  as  we  stand  to  that  ordaining  and 
perfect  Mind,  which  lives  throughout  and  vivifies  the 
creation,  the  creation  is  a  sphere  to  us  of  progress  and 
peace,  or  of  entanglement  and  ruin ! 

And  now  the  gospel  offers  a  way  in  which  we  may  be 
"  reconciled  to  God."  Because  it  offers  this,  it  is  in  the 
truest  sense  a  Gospel  ;  a  message  of  glad  tidings  ;  a  real 
Evangel.  Because  it  offers  this,  God's  wisdom  and 
grace  are  most  signally  revealed  in  it.  Because  it  offers 
this,  the  angels  above  are  interested  in  it,  and  delight 
to  record,  and  delight  undoubtedly  to  forward  and  assist, 
every  fresh  advance  which  it  makes  on  the  earth.  Be- 
cause it  offers  this,  it  is  the  highest  privilege  of  man 
first  to  accept  this  gospel  himself,  and  to  conform  to  it 
his  own  heart  and  life,  and  then  to  proclaim  it  to  others 
around  him,  and  strive  to  bring  them  to  accept  and  love 
it.  Because  it  offers  this,  on  sufficient  authority,  and 
with  the  adequate  guaranty  of  God's  promise  that  who- 
so accepts  and  applies  it  aright  shall  never  be  disap- 
pointed, but   shall  as  surely  as  life  continues  know  all 


214  THE    NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

the  glory  and  charm  of  heaven — ^because  the  Gospel  thus 
speaks  to  men,  it  is  the  one  Supreme  Revelation ;  which 
shall  not  be  superseded ;  which  may  not  be  set  aside,  as 
systems  of  morality  and  philosophy  may  be  ;  which  can 
be  suri^assed  by  no  civilization,  and  can  be  replaced,  when 
once  it  has  been  lost,  by  no  contrivance  or  plan  of  man ; 
tlie  system  in  which  the  highest  spiritual  life  of  the 
world  is  vitally,  centrally,  and  inseparably  bound  up ! 

More  than  for  all  its  marvels  and  its  morals ;  more  than 
for  all  its  great  examples,  its  general  teachings,  the 
splendor  and  scope  of  the  history  that  attends  it,  the 
freedom  and  the  peace,  the  great  advance  in  all  good 
arts,  which  it  scatters  on  its  path  as  it  marches  over 
the  earth ; — more  than  for  these,  or  any  of  these,  the 
Gospel  is  precious,  and  is  to  be  prized,  as  showing  the 
mode  in  which  man  certainly,  in  which  man  only,  can 
be  reconciled  to  God,  and  thus  made  an  heir  of  wisdoms 
and  felicities  supreme  and  everlasting. 

What  is  that  mode  then?  The  question  is  one  of 
transcendent  imj)ortance  ;  and  one  which  the  Gospel 
takes  care  to  answer,  in  the  most  exact  and  perspicuous 
manner.  Whatever  else  it  may  leave  doubtful,  it  leaves 
no  shadow  of  obscurity  on  this  !  Whatever  else  it  may 
but  lightly  and  casually  touch — as  it  touches,  for  instance, 
the  nature,  the  powers,  and  the  offices  of  angels,  or  the 
station  and  the  functions  of  saints  in  the  future — it 
treats  of  this  way  of  reconciliation  in  every  part,  and 
never  falters  or  tires  in  presenting  it. 

A  man  is  only  to  be  reconciled  to  God  through  Faith 
IN  His  Son  :  in  Him,  whom  God  has  specially  appoint- 
ed, and  has  conspicuously  set  forth,  to  be  the  mediator 
between  Him  and  ourselves : — this  is  always  the  repre- 
sentation of  the  Scriptures ;  distinct  explicit,  simple, 
comprehensive;  not  to  be  confounded  with  anything 
else,  and  not  to  be  overlooked. — It  is  not  by  works  of 


MEN  TO  BE  RECONCILED  TO  GOD,  THROUGH  CHRIST.     215 

a  practised  morality  that  we  are  to  raise  ourselves  to 
acceptance  with  God.  It  is  not  by  intellectual  exertion 
and  attainment,  though  these  should  make  us  familiar  as 
students  with  all  the  forms  of  human  thought,  and 
affluent  in  soul  with  all  the  noblest  mental  culture. 
What  are  all  our  attainments  and  powers,  at  the  highest, 
to  God's  eternal  knowledge  and  faculty  ?  We  may  more 
easily  reach  the  stars  by  climbing  our  ladders,  than 
reach  to  God  through  a  parallel  and  equal  intellectual 
supremacy !  It  is  not  by  success  in  our  several  avoca- 
tions, whatever  they  may  be,  as  merchants,  lawyers, 
inventors,  teachers.  It  is  not  even  by  the  sacrifice  of  our 
goods,  the  denial  of  our  desires ;  by  priestly  intercession, 
or  the  invocation  of  saints.  It  is  not  by  these,  or  by 
any  of  these,  that  we  are  severally  to  be  reconciled  to 
God.  But  it  is  by  personal  Faith  in  his  Son :  a  faith 
which  each  is  competent  to  exercise  ;  a  faith  which  hath 
in  it  submission  and  sympathy;  which  leads  us  to  devote 
ourselves  entirely  to  Christ,  and  which  carries  us  sponta- 
neously into  all  such  actions  as  we  know  will  be  dear 
and  beautiful  to  Him.  This  is  the  power,  this  the  act, 
by  which,  through  Christ,  we  are  "  reconciled  to  God." 
Where  this  is  wanting,  that  reconciliation  cannot  possi- 
bly be  accomplished.  Where  this  is  experienced,  there 
that  for  which  the  world's  wide  heart  inarticulately  longs, 
the  desire  after  which  gives  pathos  and  dignity  to  its 
best  religions  and  highest  literatures, — even  that  assimi- 
lation to  God's  spirit  and  will,  and  that  re-adjustment 
of  all  our  broken  relations  to  him,  which  moralists  and 
philosophers  have  searched  for  in  vain,  and  without 
which  no  soul  can  be  at  rest, — is  certainly,  perfectly, 
finally  secured.  We  are  thenceforth,  whether  we  our- 
selves are  at  once  and  fully  aware  of  it  or  not,  from 
that  moment  onward  if  the  faith  has  been  a  real  one,  the 
submission  complete,  we  are  the  friends,  the  children 


216  THE   NEW   YORK    PULPIT. 

of  God ;  his  children  and  heirs  ;  partakers  of  his  favcr, 
and  expectants  of  liis  home !  And  nothing  can  ever  dis- 
part us  from  him.  Adversity,  opposition,  obloquy,  pain — 
they  all  are  powerless  to  put  ns  a  hair-breadth  beyond 
the  circle  of  his  perfect  sympathy.  They  only,  indeed 
bring  us  nearer  his  heart,  and  assure  ns  a  more  un- 
bounded expression  of  his  out-flowing  and  radiant  love  ! 
And  death  is  but  the  dark-robed  messenger,  to  usher  us 
into  his  high  presence,  and  open  to  us  the  Beatific  Vision. 

This  is  wonderful,  amazing;  yet,  when  we  remem- 
ber God's  wisdom,  and  consider  his  grace,  it  is  no  wise 
incredible  or  even  improbable.  I^^ay,  we  can  ourselves 
see,  as  taught  by  the  Scriptures,  precisely  the  way  in 
which  it  is  accomplished,  and  admire  the  wisdom 
which  hath  chosen  this  method. 

In  order  that  we  be  "  reconciled  to  God,"  from  whom 
we  have  departed,  there  is  necessary  as  the  first  act 
Eepentance  on  our  part ;  a  repentance  that  suddenly 
and  sharply  arrests  us  in  the  course  we  have  pur- 
sued, and  leads  us  thenceforth  to  serve  him  with 
fidelity. — And  such  a  repentance  is  involved  and  pre- 
supposed in  the  primary  act  of  submission  to  Christ. 
Faith  in  him,  to  be  real,  must  embrace  and  express  this. 
Wherever  this  is  not  found,  there  the  faith  is  evidently 
superficial  or  hypocritic  ;  a  mere  motion  of  the  sensibili- 
ties, or  altogether  a  sham ;  not  a  central  and  personal 
act  of  the  soul.  Wherever  it  is  real,  one  turns  from 
impurity  with  immediate  recoil.  ISTot  as  under  constraint 
of  an  outward  law,  but  in  the  impulse  of  an  inward  de- 
sire; mourning  for  the  past,  he  gives  up  his  sins ! 

In  order  that  we  be  "  reconciled  to  God,"  and  be  placed 
in  normal  relations  to  him,  just  such  relations  as  we 
should  have  sustained  if  we  had  never  sinned  at  all,  just 
such  as  the  angels  now  know  and  rejoice  in — and  we 
never  can  be  satisfied  till  we  stand  in  just  these  relations 


MEN  TO  BE  RECONCILEn  TO  GOD,  THROUGH  CHRIST.      217 

to  God ! — it  is  necessary  that  atonement  be  made  for 
the  past ;  that  our  long  life  of  restless  ungodliness, 
extending  over  ten,  twenty,  thirty,  fifty,  perhaps  sixty 
or  seventy  years,  and  including  a  thousand  acts  and 
thoughts,  each  week  and  day,  every  one  of  which  has 
been  in  essential  and  evident  opposition  to  God — that 
this  be  expiated  by  some  atonement ;  so  that  the  law  of 
Holiness  shall  be  honored,  which  is  the  supremest  law 
of  the  universe,  and  dearest  to  God's  heart,  even  so  as 
it  would  have  been  if  we  and  all  others  had  perfectly 
kept  it.  I  say  this  is  indispensable  to  the  outward  per- 
fectness,  as  well  as  to  our  interior  assurance,  of  recon- 
ciliation and  harmony  with  God ;  and  so  all  men  instinc- 
tively feel  it.  And  so  all  systems  of  penance  and  sacri- 
fice, which  have  been  in  fact  universal  on  earth,  have 
arisen  to  recognize  and  to  satisfy  this  want. 

If  God  did  not  supremely  value  his  law  of  Holiness, 
the  universe  would  be  worth  nothing,  with  him  at  the 
head  of  it !  It  had  better  be  terminated  before  to-day's 
sunset,  than  to  have  him  say — as  he  would  in  effect 
say,  if  he  pardoned  sinners  without  an  atonement — 
"  Live  on  as  you  will,  but  repent  before  death,  and  that 
is  satisfactory  !  All  then  shall  be  well  with  you  !"  The 
song  of  the  sera23him  could  then  no  more  aspire  before 
God.  The  angelic  hosts  might  well  that  instant  rustle 
their  plumes  for  flight  from  heaven.  For  that  tolerance 
of  Impurity,  once  let  with  its  depraving  force  into  the 
heart  of  Him  who  is  infinite,  would  strike  the  safeguards 
from  around  every  saint,  and  make  the  highest  presence- 
angel  most  conscious  of  his  perpetual  insecurity !  An 
atonement  for  sin  before  it  is  forgiven,  is  not  more  the 
demand  of  God's  holy  mind,  tlian  it  is  the  necessary 
safeguard  of  the  universe !  For  if  He  begins  to  look 
liglitly  upon  sin,  a  darker  than  the  primal  chaos  is 
imminent  at  once  ! 

10 


21.8  THE    NEW    YOKK    PULPIT. 

And  now,  just  just  sucli  expiation  as  tins  is  provided 
by  Christ,  in  liis  vicarious  obedience,  suffering,  and 
death  on  the  cross.  In  the  mystery  of  his  divine  con- 
descension, of  his  unspeakable  love  lor  sinners,  he  volun- 
tarily was  made  a  human  subject  of  the  la^v  wdiich  he 
had  given.  He  obeyed  it  as  a  man.  He  expressed  in 
all  his  life  its  purity.  He  even  met  that  Death  of 
a  strange  anguish,  unspeakable,  unsearchable,  with  the 
hiding  of  the  face  of  the  Father  himself  attending  and 
crowning  it,  when  standing  in  the  sinner's  place.  And 
so  he  honored  and  magnified  the  law,  and  showed 
most  clearly  God's  infinite  regard  for  it;  and  made  it 
possible  for  the  penitent  to  be  pardoned.  He  made  the 
law  as  clearly  supreme  in  God's  administration,  as  it 
would  have  been  if  every  man  had  been  perfectly  holy, 
or  every  sinner  had  been  forever  condemned ! — ^And 
now  the  fullness  of  that  atonement  is  approjDriated  to 
himself  by  every  man  who  receives  it  in  faith.  And 
so  again  he  is  "  reconciled  to  God."  The  chasm  of  the 
past  is  bridged  over  betw^een  us,  and  a  new  record,  white 
and  clean,  is  opened  for  every  penitent  offender. 

But  a  yet  more  subtle  change  than  this  is  demanded 
in  order  to  such  reconciliation ;  a  change  in  the  spirit 
and  the  heart  of  the  man,  as  well  as  in  his  outward  and 
forensic  relations.  He  must  become  like  God  himself 
in  temper  and  purpose,  in  order  to  be  truly  affiliated 
with  him.  A  new  sympathy  must  be  born  in  him, 
with  the  views,  the  plans,  and  the  spirit  of  Him  from 
whom  he  has  so  radically  departed ;  and  he  never  can 
be  properly  related  to  him  until  this  is  gained.  Every 
man's  moral  instincts  declare  this  to  him,  when  he  lets 
them  speak  with  unbiased  voice !  The  need  of  a  regene- 
rating power  has  a  voice  in  philosophy,  as  well  as  in 
the  Scripture. 

And  this  again,  this  inward  change  of  preference  and 


MEN  TO  BE  RECONCILLD  TO  GOD,  THROUGH  CHKIST.     219 

taste,  of  desire  and  character,  is  both  pre-supposed  in 
the  experience  of  Faith,  and  is  cari-ied  forward  towards 
completion  by  that. — Christ  comes  to  manifest  God  to 
men.  The  character  of  the  Unseen  is  embodied  in  him, 
and  so  throngh  him  is  revealed  unto  the  world.  He 
who  gives  himself  to  Christ,  then,  with  affectionate  faith, 
devoting  himself  thenceforth  to  his  service,  does  it 
because  already  he  sees  in  him  a  being  deserving  vene- 
ration and  love,  and  the  active  obedience  to  which  these 
will  prompt.  And  the  more  he  contemplates  the  charac- 
ter of  Christ,  the  more  he  studies  his  life  and  work,  and 
sees  to  what  ends  his  plans  are  directed — the  more  he 
personally  communes  with  him,  in  thought  and  prayer, 
and  recalls  the  great  work  he  undertakes  for  his  j)eople, 
the  great  offices  he  fulfills  for  them,  the  perfect  spirit  he 
always  expresses — the  more  that  man  who  believes  in 
Christ  is  led  to  honor,  to  adore,  and  to  serve  him ;  the 
more  does  he  come  into  intimate  sympathy  of  spirit 
with  him ;  the  more  does  the  influence  of  the  Spirit  in 
Christ  transform,  irradiate,  purify  his  soul. 

Beholding  as  in  a  glass  the  glory  of  the  Lord,  he  is 
changed  into  the  same  image,  from  glory  to  glory,  as  by 
the  Sj^irit  of  the  Lord.  He  is  in  some  measure,  at  the 
beginning  of  this  course,  as  is  shown  by  his  faith,  in 
harmony  with  Christ :  who  is,  in  fact,  but  God  him- 
self, revealed  amid  our  human  conditions  ;  the  shining 
forth  of  the  glory  which  before  was  invisible ;  the 
express  image  of  the  Divine  Being.  He  comes  to  be 
more  and  more  closely  and  fully  in  sympathy  with 
Him,  as  his  faith  exerts  more  influence  on  him;  as 
it  governs  his  faculties,  sufiiises  his  sensibilities,  en- 
lightens and  quickens  his  intellect  itself;  till  not  to 
sympathize  with  God  in  his  plans,  in  his  views  of  human 
nature,  in  his  reverence  for  righteousness,  in  his  benevo- 
lent regard  for  all  moral  beings — not  thus  to  be  in 


220  TDE   NEW   YORK   PULPIT. 

harmony  witli  God,  and  the  most  essential  agreement 
of  feeling,  would  give  him  the  keenest  and  inmost  pain. 
It  becomes  evident  to  him  that  this  is  the  fearfuUest 
discord  in  the  universe :  to  disagree  with  God !  a  dis- 
cord from  which  he  inwardly  recoils.  God's  will  be- 
comes his  will ;  and  the  thoughts  of  Him  whom  Christ 
reveals  are  the  law  and  the  life  of  his  ardent  mind. 

And  thus  at  last,  when  this  process  is  perfected — and 
it  is  one  which  all  of  us  have  seen,  in  those  who  grew 
more  god-like  yearly  until  God  took  them  to  himself — 
when  this  is  perfected,  the  reconciliation  with  God  is 
complete  !  There  can  be  nothing  added  to  it,  to  make 
it  more  perfect ;  and  nothing  but  fresh  sin  can  arise  to 
disturb  it !  The  relation  of  that  man  to  God  is  as  per- 
fect as  if  from  his  birth  he  never  had  sinned.  IS'ay, 
more  than  this !  It  would  seem  from  the  Scriptures 
that  God  is  ready  to  show  him  more  favor,  because  he 
has  turned  from  iniquity  to  Faith ;  as  the  father  re- 
joiced with  peculiar  tenderness  over  the  prodigal  son 
restored  ;  as  the  shepherd  for  the  sheep,  and  the  woman 
for  the  coin,  which  had  severally  been  lost  and  then 
been  found.  God  seems  to  be  represented  in  such  pas- 
sages as  these,  as  taking  the  Christian  to  relations  of 
peculiar  intimacy  with  himself ;  rejoicing  over  him 
with  a  tendeiTiess  of  affection  in  which  the  angels  do 
not  partake  !  And  certainly  the  relations  between  that 
man  and  God,  between  man  the  believer  and  God  the 
Redeemer,  are  thencefortli  those  of  entire  agreement ; 
of  an  ever-ascending  fullness  of  sympathy  ! 

Tlie  sins  of  him  who  thus  believes  are  all  forgiven. 
He  has  turned  from  sin,  and  has  given  himself  in  free 
dedication  to  God  in  his  Son.  He  loves  Christ  now ;  and 
more  and  more  rejoices  in  him,  as  he  pursues  the  Chris- 
tian path.  He  loves  the  God  who  is  manifested  in 
Christ;    and  feels  his  highest  powers  respond  to  that 


MEN  TO  BE  RECONCILED  TO  GOD,  THROUGH  CHRIST.     221 

which  is  highest,  purest  in  the  universe.  And  so  he  is 
inwardly,  perfectly,  finally  reconciled  to  God !  What 
never  in  any  other  way  can  be  attained,  is  attained  by 
him  perfectly,  through  this  simple  act  of  faith  in  God's 
Son  ;  an  act  apparently  small  in  itself,  but  great  in  its 
nature,  accepted  of  God,  and  so  transcendent  and  immor- 
tal in  its  results.  And  all  the  promises  wdiich  God  hath 
given  to  those  who  are  his  friends — the  present  peace, 
the  immediate  security,  the  future  glory,  the  long  celes- 
tial experiences  on  high,  for  which  all  centuries  of  time 
were  too  short,  for  which  our  present  capacities  are  not 
adequate — all  these  are  for  him  who  has  from  the  heart 
obeyed  this  great  injunction  of  the  apostle ;  who  has 
been  truly  "  reconciled  to  God"  through  Jesus  Christ. 

]^ot  an  enemy,  but  an  ally  ;  not  an  unwilling  servant, 
but  a  loyal,  grateful,  dutiful  son  ;  not  a  felon,  but  a 
prince  ;  not  a  man  oppressed  with  fear  and  foreboding, 
but  a  man  pervaded,  at  intervals  at  least,  even  already, 
with  inward  peace,  and  looking  for  a  triumph  which  the 
earth  cannot  parallel,  which  the  earth  has  not  room  for ; 
— so  stands  the  Christian  before  his  God  ;  redeemed  by 
the  cross ;  renewed  by  the  Spirit ;  accepted  through 
grace  ;  more  than  peer  of  the  angels  !  And  life  is  his, 
and  death,  and  immortality  !  Tlie  Universe  is  his  who 
is  thus  affiliated  to  Him  who  made  it.  E'othing  can 
really  oj)press  or  harm  him  ;  but  all  things  shall  work, 
actively  and  together,  to  do  him  good.  The  forces  of  the 
creation,  which  all  are  plastic  to  God's  ordaining  and  go- 
verning mind,  shall  fly  to  bless  the  man  who  loves  him ! 

And  this  shall  be  for  no  limited  term.  As  long 
as  the  throne  of  the  Infinite  shall  stand,  the  accepted  and 
reconciled  immortal  must  abide,  in  honor  and  in  peace ! 
The  blow  of  malice  which  reaches  him,  to  do  him  a  real 
and  permanent  mischief,  must  first  have  evaded  the  * 
vigilance  of  Omniscience,  or  broken  through  the  guards 


222  THE   NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

of  Omnipotence  itself.  That  man  liatli  no  more  canse  to 
fear ;  and  lie  may  know  that  every  hope,  though  mnlti- 
pKed  to  tenfold  greatness,  shall  be  surpassed,  as  well  as 
answered,  amid  the  Future  ! 

So  i^lain  is  the  act,  so  vast  the  result,  so  infinite  the 
privilege,  so  instant,  constant,  imperative  the  duty,  of 
exercising  faith  in  the  Son  of  God !  that  faith  which 
says  "I  believe,"  and  then  worships!  that  faith  w^hich 
carries  every  soul  into  prompt  and  glad  submission  to 
Him,  and  thereafter  determines  the  character  and  the  life 
by  a  new,  a  higher,  a  spiritual  law !  This  faith  is  God's 
most  plain,  and  just,  and  necessary  requirement.  It  is 
as  well  man's  noblest  privilege.  It  hath  all  goodness 
and  heroism  proj)hesied  in  it.  It  brings  all  glory  in  its 
train.     It  is  the  condition  of  the  Life  Everlasting  ! 

My  friends,  what  can  I  further  say,  save  only  to  repeat 
in  your  hearing  to-day  those  words  of  Paul :  "  ]^ow  then 
we  are  ambassadors  lor  Christ,  as  though  God  did  be- 
seech you  by  us  ;  we  pray  you,  in  Christ's  stead,  Be  ye 
KEcoNCiLED  TO  GoD !"  Especially  would  I  urge  this 
single,  definite,  memorable  lesson  on  those  before  me 
who  never  yet  have  acknowledged  Christ,  and  never 
have  felt  true  faith  in  him  ;  who  know  not  the  joy  of  a 
personal  consecration  to  this  great  Saviour  and  King  of 
men  ;  who  live  as  the  world  lives,  amused  with  its  plea- 
sures, engrossed  in  its  pursuits ;  and  who  confess,  to 
others  at  least,  and  perhaps  to  themselves,  no  higher  want. 

My  friends,  remember  a  moment  Avhat  God  is  !  Let 
a  fiasli  of  his  glory  strike  through  the  habitual  indifi'er- 
ence  of  your  minds,  and  think  of  him  as  he  is ;  so  vast  in 
power, — so  great  in  wisdom,  so  immeasurable  and 
infinite  in  tlie  glory  of  his  being ;  encompassing  you  at 
every  instant,  and  having  eternity  for  the  span  of  his 
supremacy !  Think  how  kindness  and  goodness  unite 
with  power  in  all  his  action ;  how  the  universe  glows 


MEN  TO  BE  RECONCILED  TO  GOD,  THROUGH  CHRIST.     223 

witli  hk  Divine  brightness !  Yon  admire  the  form  and 
the  tint  of  the  flower.  It  is  God  who  hath  fashioned  it, 
nnd  touched  it  with  its  color.  Yon  marvel  at  the  speed 
and  the  size  of  the  star,  swinging  silent  through  the  azure, 
eompleting  the  stupendous  choir  of  the  worlds.  It  is 
Qod  who  hath  created  it,  and  who  now  carries  forward 
its  every  movement.  You  cannot  but  be  touched  by 
the  majesty  and  the  beauty  of  the  words  of  inspiration. 
It  is  God  who  hath  suggested  them,  to  the  minds  of  his 
prophets ;  and  only  the  reflection  of  his  divine  wisdom  is 
darkly  hinted  in  grandest  Scriptures!  You  think  of 
angels,  and  higher  beings,  with  wonder,  awe,  and  almost 
fear.  But  still  above  them  all,  unsearchable,  arises  God ; 
and  none  of  them  approximates  his  glory. 

On  every  hand  He  lives  around  us.  In  every  force,  and 
form,  and  law,  his  mind  is  seen.  And  through  all  worlds, 
that  march  above,  his  presence  is,  instant  as  here ;  and 
through  all  ages  that  shall  come,  his  power,  his  know- 
ledge, his  wisdom,  and  his  grace  shall  stand  unchanged ! 
Perfect  in  goodness,  perfect  in  wisdom,  his  character 
is  the  real  glory  of  the  universe,  as  his  life  is  its  force, 
and  his  power  its  support ! 

To  be  then  truly  affiliated  to  Him — this  is  the  grandest 
good  of  man ;  the  grandest  good  of  any  of  his  creatures. 
'No  thoughtful  man  can  fail  to  feel  it.  The  soul,  with 
central,  incessant  yearning,  demands  this  good !  And 
when  we  have  been  alienated  from  him,  we  must  be 
"reconciled,"  be  reconciled  through  Christ,  or  we 
cannot  attain  this.  Then  fear  is  ours ;  and  pain,  and 
gloom,  and  hell  itself,  with  its  untold  array  of  terrors ! 
But  if  we  are  in  heart  his  children,  then  heaven  and  all 
its  joys  are  ours;  a  state  within  us,  before  they  are 
shown  a  city  above  ;  a  life  in  the  soul,  and  then  a  crown 
on  the  spiritual  body  !  And  immortality  shall  bring  to 
them  no  loss  or  term ! 


224  THE   NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

Ob,  then,  to  you,  to  you,  I  say,  "  Be  ye,  tliis  day, 
each  one  and  all — by  faith  in  Christ,  and  that  intelli- 
gent, noble  submission,  which  this  implies — be  recon- 
ciled to  God !"  You  are  not  now ;  you  know  you  are  not. 
That  dark  unrest  which  lurks  within,  proves  that  you 
are  not.  Each  motion  of  your  conscience  declares  you 
are  not.  Your  love  of  the  world  is  proof  that  you  are 
not.  That  fear  of  death  which  now  and  then  makes  you 
to  shiver,  is  a  vivid  and  present  demonstration  of  the  fact! 
Be  reconciled  to  him.  It  is  not  righteousness  only  that 
urges  it.  It  is  the  simplest,  plainest  prudence.  For  save 
you  are,  there  is  for  you  on  earth  no  hope,  and  in  the  fu- 
ture no  scene  of  safety !  The  air  above  looks  clear  and 
bright ;  but  lightning  and  the  blast  are  slumbering  in 
it !  You  see  no  visible,  palpable  glooms  lifting  their 
pillars  athwart  the  future ;  but  already  those  glooms  are 
rising  and  darkening  within  your  own  soul,  which  shall 
hereafter  become  bars  of  perdition,  and  destinies  of 
doom,  except  you  make  your  peace  with  God  ! 

Oh,  turn  and  live  !  Obey,  believe,  and  do  Christ's 
will !  Become  a  child,  an  heir  of  God !  accepted  of 
him,  through  the  Son  !  lifted  to  inward  sympathy  with 
him,  through  that  influence  of  his  Spirit  which  sancti- 
fies the  heart ! — or  that  steep  grave  which  yawns  before 
you  shall  open  as  you  enter  it,  into  the  very  abyss  of 
darkness  ;  and  your  eternity  be  one  vast  Night ! 

From  every  page  of  nature  as  of  Scripture  ;  from 
every  day-break  blushing  with  its  beauty,  and  every 
niglit-fall  that  shows  the  infinite  cope  above  throbbing 
to  brightness  with  its  quick  stars  ;  from  a  past  all  rest- 
less with  painful  search  ;  from  a  future  whose  experience 
we  now  and  here  each  hour  determine  ;  from  the  soul 
that  never  is  born  as  it  should  be,  till  born  into  true 
relations  to  God  ;  from  Sabbaths  and  from  death-beds  ; 
from  the  cross   and  the  ascension ;  from  heaven,  that 


MEN  TO  BE  RECONCILED  TO  GOD,  THKOCGH  CHRIST.     225 

rings  with  tliat  great  jubilee,  tlie  echo  of  which  rolls 
swiftly  on  us  through  the  harps  of  the  Apocalypse,  aud 
the  mystery  of  which  our  highest  raptures  here  fore- 
shadow ;  from  hell,  that  heaves  as  Christ  portrays  it, 
and  ceaselessly  tosses,  in  the  gloom  of  God's  frown ; — 
from  each  alike,  from  all  combined,  comes  up  this  con- 
stant, aj^pealing  cry :  "  Ye  men  whom  God  hath  made 
immortal,  and  who  by  shi  are  parted  from  him,  be  ye 
this  hour,  by  faith  in  Christ,  through  his  sacrifice  and 
his  Spirit,  reconciled  to  God!" 

God,  by  his  grace,  bless  to  each  one  the  urgent  lesson, 
and  make  it  indeed  to  all  of  us  a  message  from  the 
skies  ;  and  unto  Him  be  all  the  praise ! 


10* 


XYL 

THE  AISTCIENT  WOETHIES   OUR  EXAMPLE. 

BY  THOMAS  E.  VERMILYE,  D.D.,  LL.D., 

One  of  the  ministers  of  the  Collegiate  Dutch  Church. 

That  ye  be  not  slothful,  but  followers  of  tbem  who  through  faith  and 
patience  inherit  the  promises. — Heb.  vi.  12. 

The  principle  of  imitation  is  one  of  tlie  strongest  and 
most  prevalent  of  all  those  that  influence  mankind. 
Almost  from  the  first  lighting  np  of  intelligence,  the 
infant  begins  his  education  by  copying  the  motions  and 
gestures  of  those  around  him  ;  and  it  is  pleasant  and 
instructive  to  notice  how  from  day  to  day  the  little 
scholar  quickens  his  perceptions,  enlarges  the  range  of 
his  observations,  and  becomes  more  and  more  skillful 
and  perfect  in  his  mimic  arts.  The  motions  of  the  body 
and  the  expressions  of  the  countenance  are  formed, 
the  organs  of  speech  are  brought  into  action,  the  tones 
of  the  voice,  the  acquisition  of  language,  nay,  the  gene- 
ral modes  of  thought  and  utterance  flow  very  much 
from  imitation  of  those  with  whom  the  young  associate 
and  whom  they  admire.  In  a  very  great  measure  the 
operation  of  this  one  principle  produces  those  striking 
resemblances  we  so  commonly  observe  between  parents 
and  their  children,  companions  and  friends. 

In  after-life  the  same  law  prevails.  While  there  may 
be  some  natural  peculiarity  of  mind  or  disposition 
which  makes  the  individual  particularly  susceptible  of 


THE    ANCIENT   WORTHIES   OUR   EXAMPLE.  227 

certain  impressions  rather  tlian  of  others,  yet  it  is  chiefly 
by  imitation  that  the  original  propensity  is  elicited  and 
confirmed.  The  man  of  a  lively,  imaginative  mind, 
in  the  presence  of  objects  of  beanty  and  sublimity, 
glows  with  an  excitement  to  which  others  are  strangers; 
but  it  is  by  the  study  of  the  masters  of  the  poetic  art 
that  he  at  length  acquires  the  power  to  clothe  his 
emotions  in  a  graceful  vesture  of  numbers,  and  make  his 
thoughts  immortal  in  "  words  that  burn."  Nature  endows 
the  orator  with  gifts,  and  enkindles  the  Promethean 
fire ;  but  much  labor  and  a  careful  observation  of  the 
masters  of  resistless  eloquence  who  have  already  attained 
skill  and  eminence,  alone  can  bring  his  gifts  to  perfec- 
tion. And  so  it  is  through  the  entire  web  of  society. 
The  multitude  live  on  the  humble  follower  of  the  modes 
and  customs  that  rule  around.  And  even  the  men  of 
genius,  the  fine  spirits  that  are  "  turned  to  fine  issues," 
are  not  altogether  formed  by  independent,  solitary 
musings ;  but  taking  advantage  of  the  labors  of  those 
who  have  gone  before,  and  having  ambition  and  hope 
aroused  by  their  successes,  they  set  themselves  to  copy, 
to  equal,  and  then  to  excel  the  objects  of  their  admira- 
tion. And  thus  by  a  reverent  imitation  and  generous 
rivalry  are  high  characters  formed  and  great  ends 
achieved.  To  this  efiacacious  principle  the  apostle 
directs  his  readers  in  the  language  of  our  text.  The 
noblest  doctrines  had  been  inculcated  upon  them 
through  the  sacred  Word,  but  they  could  become 
valuable  only  as  they  should  be  reduced  to  practice: 
pure  and  sublime  precepts  were  enforced,  but  to  be 
of  any  advantage  to  themselves  or  others  they  must 
become  manifest  in  their  lives.  That  they  were  not 
impracticable  requirements,  appeared  in  the  fact  that 
multitudes  in  former  ages  had  actually  illustrated  them 
in  their  daily  conversation.     They  had  lived  as  under 


228  THE  NEW  yore:  PDLPIT. 

the  eye  of  the  Great  Invisible ;  tliey  had  believed  the 
word  of  his  promise ;  tliey  had  anticipated  the  fulfill- 
ment with  great  delight,  and  had  framed  their  thonghts 
and  actions  in  conformity  with  the  principles  and  hopes 
thus  imparted  to  them.  And  they  had  at  length  rea- 
lized all  their  expectations.  Let  their  example,  then, 
awaken  emulation.  Imitate  their  heroic  characters  and 
mao:nanimous  acts.  Draw  from  their  success  motives  to 
diligence  in  the  race  that  is  set  before  you :  "  Be  not 
slothful,  but  followers  of  them  who  through  faith  and 
patience  (even  now)  inherit  the  promises." 

To  aid  our  minds  in  comprehending  Paul's  exhorta- 
tion and  converting  it  to  our  personal  benefit,  let  us 
notice, 

I.  The  end  these  illustrious  worthies  attained  who  are 
set  forth  as  examples  for  our  imitation. 

n.  The  means  they  adopted  and  perseveringly  applied. 

m.  The  summons  to  follow  their  virtues,  that  we  may 
achieve  their  triumph. 

I.  The  end  attained  by  those  whose  examples  aije 

PRESENTED  FOR  OUR  IMITATION. 

Having  expounded  the  great  truths  respecting  Christ's 
person  and  his  priestly  office  in  the  preceding  part  of 
the  epistle,  the  apostle  in  this  chapter  turns  his  doc- 
trine, as  was  usual  with  him,  to  practical  uses.  And 
the  special  point  he  urges,  is  that  the  Hebrew  converts 
should  watch  against  defection,  and  persevere  in  their 
Christian  calling.  The  principles  they  had  imbibed 
they  should  carry  to  perfection ;  the  holiness  they  had 
professed  they  should  exemplify  in  consistent  practice. 
They  should  be  aware  of  the  danger  of  entertaining  fiilse 
hopes,  and  should  look  carefully  to  the  traitor  within, 
and  guard  themselves  against  the  many  allurements  of 
the  world  without.  They  should  both  sift  and  settle 
their  principles,  and   inflame  their  zeal  by  the  steady 


THE    ANCIENT   WORTHIES   OUR   EXAMPLE.  22£f 

contemplation  of  those  bright  instances  of  the  faith  and 
patience  of  such  as  had  been  sorely  tried  and  had 
proved  successful. 

He  refers  more  directly,  no  doubt,  to  those  Old  Testa- 
ment worthies,  of  whose  names  and  deeds  he  gives  so 
splendid  a  catalogue  in  a  subsequent  chapter.  But  the 
•exhortation  was  intended  to  be  of  permanent  use  and 
application.  It  has  relation  to  the  examples  of  all 
believers,  of  every  age,  who,  by  the  same  means,  have 
attained  the  like  triumphs  and  rewards.  They  are 
described  under  the  twofold  ideas  of — the  end  at  which 
they  aimed,  "  they  inherit  the  promises  ^"^^  and  the  means 
by  which  they  achieved  their  bliss,  "  through  faith  cmd 
patience  y 

They  "inherit  the  promises."  As  S23oken  of  the 
ancient  saints,  it  was  a  consummated  joy.  They  had 
finished  the  course ;  they  had  reached  the  goal ;  they 
had  received  the  victor's  crown  that  fadetli  not  away ; 
they  had  actually  become  possessed  of  the  things  pro- 
mised, and  were  enjoying  the  serenity  and  repose  which 
await  every  good  soldier  in  this  cause. 

The  promises,  however,  were  not  more  theirs,  Paul 
intimates,  than  ours.  There  were  certain  promises, 
indeed,  which  were  peculiar  to  Israel  under  the  ancient 
economy ;  for  that  disj)ensation,  for  a  large  part,  con- 
templated temporal  benefits,  and  such  promises  were 
fulfilled  in  their  release  from  Egypt  and  introduction 
into  the  earthly  Canaan.  And  every  Jew  participated 
in  those  civil  and  social  immunities  his  nation  enjoyed 
by  virtue  of  these  promises.  Yet  many  of  them  had  a 
wider  range  than  the  bestowment  of  mere  temporal  and 
carnal  blessings,  and  were  only  accomplished,  in  their 
full  import,  in  the  attainment  of  spiritual  and  everlasting 
good  things.  Even  Israel  was  a  type  of  the  E'ew  Testa- 
ment   Church,   the    true    spiritual    seed ;    the    march 


230  THE   NEW   YORK   PULPIT. 

through  the  wilderness,  with  its  trials  and  succors,  was 
a  type  of  the  condition  of  saints  in  the  world ;  and 
Canaan  itself  was  a  type  of  the  heavenly  rest.  And  the 
promises  then,  as  now,  had  respect  to  the  several  parts 
of  this  pilgrimage  as  w^ell  as  to  its  blissful  termination. 

We  know  that  God  gave  them  promises  of  guidance 
and  support  during  the  journey,  and  miracles  were 
wrought  in  fulfillment  of  these  divine  pledges.  The 
heavens  dropped  manna,  and  the  flinty  rocks  gushed  out 
with  living  streams ;  their  enemies  were  drowned,  and 
the  walls  of  beleagured  cities  fell  down,  to  prove  the 
power  and  fidelity  of  Israel's  God.  'Nor  did  the  supply 
cease,  nor  was  the  overruling  hand  withdrawn,  until,  after 
forty  years  wanderings  to  punish  their  rebellious  spirit, 
God's  mercy  again  appeared,  their  feet  trod  the  dry 
channel  of  Jordan,  and  they  went  in  to  possess  the  land. 
He  led  them,  and  fed  them,  and  instructed  them  in  that 
dreary  march.  So  is  it  with  the  Christian.  All  needful 
grace  is  promised  for  his  earthly  sojourn.  Temj)oral 
provision  and  care  are  included  in  the  generous  grant ; 
for  it  is  said :  "  Bread  shall  be  given,  and  water  shall  be 
sure."  God's  hand  shall  be  outstretched  for  his  protec- 
tion and  supply  ;  and  though  the  grace  of  faith  may  be 
often  tried  by  delay,  and  of  submission,  by  other  answers 
to  prayers  than  those  we  may  desire,  yet  the  word  upon 
which  the  saint  relies  for  his  temporal  blessings,  will 
never  be  forfeited.  "  I  have  been  young,"  saith  David, 
"  and  now  am  old ;  yet  have  I  not  seen  the  righteous 
forsaken,  nor  his  seed  begging  bread." 

Eminently,  however,  do  the  promises  cover  our 
spiritual  wants.  "  Grace  for  every  time  of  need,"  is  the 
ample  proffer.  The  young  convert  sj^eedily  finds  that 
his  religious  life  is  not  an  uninterrupted  course  of  ease 
and  enjoyment;  but  that  the  figures,  under  which  it  is 
represented  in  Scripture,  are  appropriate  and  emphatic. 


TilK    ANCIENT    WORTHIES    OUR    EXAMPLE.  231 

It  Is  a  conflict,  a  race,  a  warfare,  in  wliicli  "  we  wrestle 
not  against  flesli  and  blood,"  outward  and  discovered 
fues ;  "  but  against  principalities  and  j)Owers,  against 
the  ruler  of  tlie  darkness  of  this  world,  against  spiritual 
wickedness  in  high  places."  The  former  he  might  sub- 
due, their  attack  he  might  foresee  and  repel.  But  these 
latter  are  partly  inward  ;  our  own  wandering  thoughts, 
carnal  appetites  and  passions,  the  force  of  long  con- 
Urmed  habits  of  self-indulgence  and  sin;  and  they  are 
partly  those  of  invisible  spiritual  existences,  of  whose 
being  the  Bible  gives  us  descriptions,  and  the  believer 
has  ample  experience.  "Satan  goeth  about  seeking 
^vliom  he  may  devour,"  and  the  attacks  of  these  assail- 
ants are  continued  through  life,  with  diminishing  power, 
it  may  be,  but,  while  we  are  in  the  flesh,  never  are  our 
enemies  utterly  destroyed.  There  is  no  perfection,  no 
flnislied  victory,  while  we  are  in  the  body.  "  Without 
iire  lightings,  and  within  are  fears."  [N'or  is  any  saint 
exempt ;  the  most  eminent  are  frequently  the  most 
tried,  and  through  tribulation  they  enter  into  rest.  The 
possibility  of  sin,  the  actual  indwelling  of  corrupt  afi'ec- 
tions,  is  the  state  of  every  child  of  God,  until  his  spirit  is 
completely  emancipated,  and  the  corruptible  is  laid 
away  in  the  earth  to  await  the  summons  to  rise  and  put 
on  incorruption.  Under  all  these  different  states  of 
mind,  however,  and  amidst  all  the  conflicts  we  may 
meet,  there  are  gracious  promises,  adapted  to  soothe  and 
support  the  fainting  spirit.  "  I  shall  one  day  fall  by  the 
hand  of  the  enemy,"  cries  the  timid  believer.  "  Fear 
not,"  saith  the  promise,  "  for  I  am  with  thee."  "  All 
these  things  are  against  me,"  exclaims  the  buffeted 
soul ;  '"•  I  am  God,  all  sufficient,"  saith  the  promise  ; 
"  thy  God  and  thine  exceeding  great  reward.  "When 
thou  passest  through  the  waters  I  will  be  with  thee,  and 
through  the  rivers  they  shall  not  overflow  thee  ;  when 


232  THE    NEW    YORK    PDLPIT. 

tlioii  goest  through  the  flames  they  shall  not  kindle  upon 
thee ;"  "  I  will  not  leave  thee,  until  I  have  clone  that 
which  I  have  spoken  to  thee  of."  How  often,  in 
Christian  experience,  have  the  darkest  forebodings  been 
dispelled,  and  some  unlooked  for  interventions  of  Pro- 
vidence removed  all  our  fears,  and  smoothed  our 
^,vaj,  at  the  anticipated  moment  of  trial  and  disaster. 
How  often,  when  the  pursuing  host  was  upon  us,  and 
the  mountains  reared  their  rocky  ramparts  on  each 
hand,  and  the  sea  was  before,  and  no  escape  seemed 
possible,  has  there  been  a  moving  of  the  waters,  and  we 
have  passed  safely,  as  on  dry  land :  and,  perhaps, 
brethren,  on  the  shore  we  sang  God's  praises  in  momen- 
tary gratitude,  but  like  Israel,  we  soon  forgot  his  works. 
Yet,  whatever  be  our  derelictions,  "  God  is  faithful,  he 
cannot  deny  himself."  'No  doubt  we  all  shall  find  per- 
sonal reason,  both  for  gratitude  and  humiliation,  in  this 
respect.  Our  past  lives  will  afford  us,  oh,  how  many 
attestations  to  the  gentle  care,  and  unswerving  faithful- 
ness of  our  kind  Kedeemer,  and  many,  many  causes  for 
deep  contrition  over  our  thoughtless  disregard  of  his 
rebukes  and  neglect  of  his  goodness.  God's  forbearance 
and  our  perverseness  stand  often  in  startling  contrast,  to 
shame  us  and  magnify  the  riches  of  his  grace. 

But  the  end  of  the  course  is  secured.  Every  believer 
in  Jesus  Christ  is  an  heir  of  heaven  by  a  divine  promise ; 
and  that  promise  is  confirmed  to  him  by  the  veracity, 
and  consistency,  and  power  of  the  promiser.  The  exj^e- 
ricnces  of  our  daily  life,  the  preservation  of  divine  grace 
in  our  hearts  amidst  so  much  within  and  wdthout,  so 
(liametrically  opposed  to  its  existence  and  growth,  the 
present  continuance  of  spiritual  affections  and  hope,  are 
j)ledges  and  earnests  of  our  "  inheritance  in  light.  "  He 
who  hath  begun  a  good  work  will  perform  it  to  the  day 
of  Jesus  Christ."     It  was  a  part  of  the  Saviour's  blessed 


THE    ANCIENT   WORTHIES    OUR   EXAMPLE.  233 

valedictory — "  I  go  to  prepare  a  place  for  you ;  and  I 
will  come  again  and  receive  you  unto  myself,  that 
where  1  am  there  ye  may  be  also."  By  the  law  of  the 
kingdom,  we  here  must  have  tribulation.  At  the 
best,  our  earthly  pilgrimage  is  a  scene  of  mingled  light 
and  shade :  drafts  of  sweetness  are  dashed  with  many 
an  infusion  of  the  wormwood  and  the  gall ;  nor  is  there 
any  living  exemption  by  the  fixed  law  of  humanity, 
this  life  of  agitation  and  care  tends  towards  a  death  of 
pain,  and  ends  at  last  in  the  abhorred  and  lonely  grave. 
There  all  earthly  sorrows  cease  indeed,  and  the  weary 
are  at  rest;  but  there  too,  whatever  earthly  joys  we 
have  known  are  forever  ended.  'No  living  voice  wakes 
the  echoes  of  the  tomb ;  no  form  of  beauty  greets  the 
sight ;  no  assiduities  of  friend  or  loved  one  ever  soothe 
the  rugged  couch.  And  from  the  teachings  of  nature 
we  derive  no  assurance  of  a  future  resurrection ;  nay,  all 
the  accessories  of  the  condition  seem  to  set  there  the 
seal  of  unbroken  continuance,  eternal  desolation.  To 
the  eye  of  reason,  no  ray  of  hope  casts  a  glimmer  into 
the  Cimmerian  gloom  of  the  narrow  house.  If  we  were 
left  to  her  instructions  alone,  oh,  how  dreary  our  pros- 
pects, and  what  an  awful  gloom  would  be  reflected 
upon  our  present  state !  In  the  utter  prostration  of  our 
spirits,  without  adequate  motive  for  exertion,  and  with- 
out prospect  or  hope  of  a  fitting  sphere  in  which  to 
exert  the  powers  with  which  we  are  endowed,  we  should 
give  vent,  in  David's  complaint,  to  irrepressible  mur- 
murs :  "  Wherefore  hast  thou  made  all  men  in  vain." 
Reason  here  is  dumb.  But  hark!  the  word  of  the 
promise  speaks  from  the  revelations  of  God.  My 
spirit  revives  as  I  hear  its  tones  of  triumph  chanted 
over  the  new-made  grave — "  I  am  the  resurrection  and 
the  life  :  he  that  believeth  in  me,  though  he  were  dead 
yet  shall  he  live."   My  soul  leaps  in  ecstasy  when  I  read 


23J:  THE   NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

these  assurances  of  my  Saviour — when  my  faith  can 
seize  and  hold  them  fast,  as  the  succor  and  strength  of 
my  weary  heart.  I  love  to  muse  U23on  what  he  says  of 
the  I^ew  Jerusalem  ;  its  pearly  gates,  its  golden  streets, 
its  many  mansions  ;  the  palace  of  its  Eang ;  the  bright 
forms  of  its  inhabitants,  clothed  in  white ;  the  Lamb  in 
tlie  midst  of  the  throne ;  the  infinite  Father  and  his 
myriads  of  angels ;  the  harps  and  hallelujahs  of  its 
countless  choir,  and  the  ever-during  cycles  of  their  bliss. 
I  love  to  revive  in  my  memory  those  images  of  gran- 
deur and  of  glory  by  which  the  Spirit  strives  to  excite 
within  us  some  faint  conception  of  that  scene  of  the 
Redeemer's  final  triumph,  the  saints'  final  bliss,  God's 
closing  and  crowming  act  in  the  process  of  creation,  and 
providence,  and  grace,  when  he  shall  make  all  things 
new.  I  love  to  imagine  what  heaven  will  be  ;  with  an 
ardor  even  more  animated  than  that  which  Old  Testa- 
ment saints  could  have  experienced,  to  trace  out  those 
descriptions  which  inspiration  has  laboriously  wrought ; 
to  rehearse  those  great  and  precious  promises  by  which  it 
is  made  over  to  a  humble,  world-subduing,  soul-exalting 
faith.  Yes,  and  there  are  times  when  the  promise  seems 
so  sure,  the  image  so  vividly  portrayed,  heaven  so  near, 
that  the  reality  is  almost  begun  below.  There  seems  to 
be  a  looking  in  at  those  doors;  a  hearing  of  that  everlast- 
ing song ;  a  sight  of  things  within  the  vale  which  is  un- 
earthly, and  sometimes  overbears  the  frail  house  of  clay. 
Saints  have  known  such  joy — the  promise  even  here 
almost  fulfilled  in  experience — absolutely  fulfilled  in  its 
certainty.  Faith  was  w^ell-nigh  lost  in  vision.  In  the 
fruition  they  have  been  so  borne  away  from  earth  as  to 
say  with  aged  Simeon,  "  Lord,  now  lettest  thou  thy  ser- 
vant depart  in  peace,  for  mine  eyes  have  seen  thy  salva- 
tion." Paul's  experience  w^as  eminent,  it  is  true,  but 
hardly  his  alone  of  all  Christ's  saints.     Others  too*  in 


THE   ANCIENT   WORTHIES    OUR    EXAMPLE.  235 

experience  of  tilings  not  seen,  have  come  to  the  Monnt 
Zion,  and  have  had  such  foretastes,  as  at  times  almost  to 
fullill  the  promise,  by  bringing  heaven  very  near  to 
the  sonl,  and  making  it  an  almost  realized  bliss. 

n.  Let  us  pass  to  speak  of  the  means  by  ^vhich  these 
OBJECTS  are  attained.  Paul  teaches  iis  that  they  are 
subjects  of  "  promise ;"  yet  not  to  our  merit,  but  are  all 
of  grace.  They  are,  too,  like  the  possessions  of  an  heir, 
not  procured  by  his  own  exertions,  but  "  inherited " 
through  the  favor  and  by  the  will  of  the  donor.  Still 
there  are  certain  prerequisites  by  which  our  title  will  be 
authenticated — certain  graces  which,  however,  are  not 
so  properly  causes  producing  effects — ^means  insuring 
an  end  by  their  inherent  power — as  divinely  appointed 
antecedents,  which  our  gracious  Master  himself  works 
within  us,  and  to  which  he  condescends  to  annex  the 
blessing.  So  that,  though  the  human  and  divine  co- 
operate, still  it  is  all  of  grace. 

The  ancient  worthies  here  commemorated  inherited 
the  things  promised — "  through  faith  and  patience."  By 
the  same  graces  must  we  be  governed,  that  we  may  se- 
cure the  fulfillment  of  the  New  Testament  promises — the 
objects  of  our  desire  and  hope.  Now,  "faith"  in  this 
connection,  does  not  denote  merely  a  j)ersuasion  of  the 
being  and  perfections  of  the  one  living  and  true  God, 
and  a  confident  reliance  upon  his  goodness  in  his  gene- 
ral providence  ;  for  that  is  a  faith  that  might  exist  and 
be  active  without  any  such  knowledge  of  his  character 
or  relations  to  us  as  is  given  in  the  Bible.  Indeed,  such 
a  faith  would  be  quite  consistent  with  the  deist's  belief 
in  one  God,  and  disbelief  of  every  thing  peculiar 
to  the  Scriptural  revelation  of  the  only  true  God,  and 
Jesus  Christ  his  Son.  It  is  faith  in  the  God  of  the 
Bible — ^in  God  as  he  shines  in  the  face  of  Jesus  his 
anointed ;  faith  in  his  revealed  method  of  redemption — 


-S6  THE    NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

in  the  mediation  he  has  made  known — in  the  sole  merit 
of  the  atonement  for  pardon  and  life  ;  faith  in  his  power 
to  subdue  our  sins  in  us,  as  he  has  made  satisfaction  to 
the  law  for  us ;  in  his  ability  and  willingness  to  do  for  us 
all  that  we  need  to  fit  us  for  heaven,  and  to  bring  us 
til  ere.  Yet  it  is  not  a  mere  speculative  assent  to  such 
i;leas,  nor  even  to  certain  propositions  laid  down  in  Scrip- 
ture concerning  the  peculiar  character,  mission,  life, 
and  death  of  Jesus  Christ ;  but  it  is  a  personal  reliance 
upon  him  as  he  is  thus  revealed  to  us.  It  is  not  an  oper- 
ation of  the  intellect  merely,  although  the  mind  must 
be  first  correctly  informed.  But  gospel  faith  is  mainly 
an  exercise  of  the  heart,  receiving,  resting  in,  loving 
this  Saviour ;  personally  trusting  him  for  the  salvation 
he  has  revealed  and  we  absolutely  need.  You  know 
that  very  much  is  made  of  this  principle  in  the  ISTew 
Testament.  It  is  represented  as  the  very  life  of  the 
Cliris!:ian  in  this  world.  He  "lives  the  life  of  faith 
upon  the  Son  of  God."  It  pervades  his  whole  being.  By 
it  the  true  relations  between  things  temporal  and  spir 
itual,  between  the  present  and  the  future,  the  favor  of 
God  and  "  the  pleasures  of  sin  for  a  season,"  this  short 
life  and  an  eternal  heaven,  are  clearly  defined,  and 
placed  in  their  just  magnitude  and  order.  Faith  be- 
comes "  the  substance  of  things  hoped  for,  and  the  evi- 
dence of  thino-s  not  seen."  The  mind  under  its  influence 
apprehends  the  certain  existence  and  attainable  blessed- 
ness of  those  distant  objects,  and  then  the  soul  is  excited 
to  strive  after  them.  Faith  holds  to  the  promise  of 
tliose  pleasures  at  God's  right  hand,  and  we  cheerfully 
deny  ourselves,  and  take  our  cross  to  follow  him.  It 
draws  motives  of  action  from  the  invisible  and  future 
world  which  counterbalance  all  the  allurements  of  time ; 
wlilch  arm  us  with  resolution  to  disregard  the  light 
alflictions  of  the  present  moment,  and  even  to  spurn 


THE    ANCIENT    WORTHIES    OUK    EXAMPLE.  237 

earthly  blandishments  when  they  come  into  competition 
with  the  glory  to  be  revealed.  Faith  relies  upon  the 
Savionr  to  do  for  ns  what  we  may  need ;  and  then  it 
faces  every  trial,  and  has  no  fear.  Death  and  the  grave 
are  conquered  foes ;  it  looks  beyond  the  long  ages  to 
the  general  rising  of  all  the  myriads  of  earth's  sons ;  to 
the  meeting  of  the  Lord  in  the  air,  and  going  to  be  with 
him  in  the  mansions  he  has  gone  to  prepare  for  them 
that  love  him.  'No  principle  like  this  to  disenchant  the 
world,  and  to  impart  a  courage  before  which  the  com- 
mon objects  of  human  dread  or  allurement  are  power- 
less, and  the  common  incentives  and  aims  of  human 
ambition  sink  into  contempt. 

Again,  the  "  patience  "  here  enjoined  is  ])roperly 
something  more  than  mere  quiet  endurance  of  present 
troubles,  which  is  the  usual  idea  affixed  to  that  word. 
The  original  term,  rather,  means  such  a  sedate,  com- 
posed and  resolute  mind  as  shall  qualify  us  to  bear  up 
under  long-continued  trials,  a  series  of  disasters,  sub 
duing  afflictions,  and  yet  to  persevere  in  the  faithful 
maintenance  of  our  principles,  and  the  fearless  discharge 
of  duty.  The  two  things  are  frequently  thus  distin- 
guished in  Scripture  :  as  where  we  are  enjoined  to  prac- 
tise "  long-suffering  and  patience."  It  implies  the 
power  not  merely  of  passive  endurance,  which  is  indeed 
a  Christian  grace  of  high  renown,  but  of  active,  and 
onward  movement  wherever  our  Master  requires  we 
should  go  ;  whatever  obstacles  or  dangers  may  line  the 
way.  In  opposition  to  a  timid  or  slothful  spirit,  we  are 
commanded  to  be  diligent,  fearless,  and  energetic,  trust- 
ing in  God  to  bring  us  safely  through  when  we  proceed 
from  regard  to  his  will,  and  our  object  is  to  promote  iiis 
glory.  The  Old  Testament  furnished  many  examples 
o,f  these  graces.  Noah  being  warned  of  God,  believed, 
and  "  prepared   an   ark  to  the  saving  of  his  house." 


238  THE   NEW   YORK   PULPIT. 

Abraham  submitted  to  tlie  sacrifice  of  kindred  and 
country  ;  he  withheld  not  the  knife  from  Isaac,  that  he 
might  obey  the  heavenly  mandate  :  in  that  terrible 
trial  of  paternal  love  his  faith  still  grasped  the  promise, 
and  he  became  thereby  the  Father  of  all  them  that 
believe.  Moses  turned  his  back  upon  the  pomps  of 
royalty  to  cast  in  his  lot  with  the  despised  Hebrew  race, 
for  he  had  respect  unto  the  recompense  of  reward.  In 
the  early  times  of  the  Kew  Dispensation,  apostles  and 
martyrs  exemplified  the  virtue  of  these  same  principles, 
when  they  willingly  gave  themselves  to  the  dungeon 
and  the  stake,  "  not  accepting  deliverance,"  that  they 
might  attain  a  better,  life,  an  enduring  substance.  And 
in  later  ages,  God  in  his  providence  has  subjected  the 
faith  and  patience  of  his  people  to  equal  trials,  and  in 
like  manner  they  have  produced  miracles  of  heroism  in 
ten  thousands  of  instances.  The  test  has  proved  the 
spirit  to  be  the  same  in  purity  and  vigor.  There  is  not 
a  country,  hardly  a  spot  in  Europe,  that  has  not  been 
reddened  with  the  blood  of  those  who  have  been  slain 
for  the  testimony  of  Jesus.  Their  lives  of  self-denial 
and  toil,  their  dungeon  hours  of  enduring  patience, 
their  expiring  moments  of  torture  and  of  hope,  and  of 
ecstasy  often,  attested  that  a  Christian's  faith  was 
something  more  than  speculation,  something  more  than 
mere  enthusiasm,  something  more  than  a  distempered 
dream ;  that  it  in  reality  took  hold  on  God  and  God's 
throne,  and  the  soul  was  lifted  up  thereby  above  all 
fears  and  affections,  above  all  earthly  sensibilities,  to 
a  sublimity  of  endurance  which  only  the  living  power 
of  the  world  to  come,  the  inwrought  experience  of 
Christ's  grace,  could  give  them  to  experience  or  can 
make  us  understand.  I  have  wandered  amidst  the 
magnificent  ruins  of  Rome,  the  palaces  of  the  Caesars,, 
the  Coliseum,  the  columns  and  arches  of  ancient  strnc- 


THE   ANCIENT   WORTHIES   OUE    EXAMPLE.  239 

tures  more  imposing  than  the  grandeur  of  the  modern 
city,  and  my  thouglits  turned  back  to  the  days  of  the 
primitive  Christian  church  in  that  ancient  seat  of  uni- 
versal empire.  We  are  told  that  a  vast  multitude  of 
men  and  women  were  there  converted  to  the  faith  of 
Jesus  while  yet  the  gospel  was  preached  by  apostolic 
men  and  had  not  lost  its  early  power.  And  there  that 
Pagan  Eome,  that  had  adopted  the  gods  of  all  the  con- 
quered nations,  could  make  no  room  in  her  Pantheon 
for  Jesus  the  Nazarene,  and  could  tolerate  none  of  his 
disciples  amidst  the  motley  throng  of  idolatrous  vota- 
ries. Fit  was  it  it  should  be  so.  They  were  hurried  to 
the  wild  beasts,  burned  in  garments  impregnated  with 
inflammable  materials,  exposed  to  tortures  which,  cruel 
as  they  were,  might  be  taken  as  first  lessons  in  the 
accursed  art  which,  in  after  ages,  and  in  almost  every 
country,  the  inventive  fanaticism  of  Papal  Rome  refined 
to  such  diabolical  perfection.  And  there,  it  is  said, 
Christianity,  hunted  from  the  habitations  of  men,  sought 
shelter  beneath  the  ground,  and  dug  out  a  city  of 
churches  and  tombs  ;  and  Christ's  disciples  fled  thither 
to  practise  the  rites  of  a  pure  worship,  and  indulge  the 
aflJ'ections  of  renewed  minds.  As  I  descended  the  vault- 
like mouth  for  a  short  distance  into  the  Catacombs,  a 
tumult  of  emotion  overwhelmed  me.  It  was  as  if  a 
voice  commanded,  "  put  off  thy  shoes  from  off  thy  feet, 
for  the  place  whereon  thou  standest  is  holy  ground." 
Imagination  held  me  captive.  I  tried  to  read  the 
almost  obliterated  inscription,  and  peered  away  into  the 
darkness  to  descry,  if  possible,  the  Cryptic  chapel  and 
the  form  of  some  poor  Christian  exercising  his  forbidden 
devotions  in  the  very  bowels  of  the  earth.  I  could  not 
but  ask  myself,  what  power  could  have  so  disenchanted 
this  world,  to  men  and  women  of  nothing  more  than  the 
ordinary  mould  ?     What  spirit  was  it  that,  amidst  such 


2:l-0  THE    NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

privations,  so  transformed  and  sustained,  and  even 
cheered,  these  primitive  suiierers,  in  their  vohmtary 
adlierence  to  a  despised  and  persecuted  creed  ?  And  I 
conld  onlvi-eply,  that  "  the  love  of  Christ  constrained 
them."  'Hipse  were  the  first  trophies  of  that  simple  but 
sublime  principle  which  should  strew  the  world  at  once 
with  its  ^'ictims  and  its  victories  ;  which  should  save 
many  lost  souls  ;  which  shonld  silently  work  on  until 
it  should  revolutionize  the  entire  social  and  civil  condi- 
tion of  men  :  at  whose  bidding  the  missionary  should 
part  from  country  and  kindred,  and  the  martyr  should 
die,  assured  that  the  truths  he  preached,  the  principles 
he  watered  with  his  blood,  should  be  the  seed  of  a 
bounteous  harvest :  the  principle  which  should  bring  a 
latter  day  of  peace,  purity,  and  hope,  on  the  earth,  when 
the  idols  should  be  utterly  abolished,  and  should  replen- 
ish heaven  witli  the  m^^-iads  of  the  ransomed  of  all 
climes,  and  classes,  and  characters,  and  times,  who  shall 
stand  before  the  throne  clothed  in  white,  for  that  they 
are  worthy.  Here  was  the  first  going  forth  of  its  power, 
and  even  then,  we  are  told,  the  heathen  oracles  sud- 
denly became  significantly  dumb. 

I  afterwards  roamed  over  Alpine  hills  and  the  inde- 
scribable grandeur  of  the  scenery  elevated  and  awed 
my  spirit.  But  again  my  thoughts  fled  back  to  those 
Waldensians  who  through  the  sluggish  years  of  the 
Papal  degeneracy  were  true  to  their  trust.  While  all 
civilized  Europe  slumbered  under  the  spell  of  ceremo- 
nial superstition,  or  "  worshipped  stocks  and  stones," 
they  kept  pure  and  l)right  the  lamp  of  Christian  faith  ; 
and  they  suffered,  oh,  what  cmelties  from  the  hands  of 
anti-christian  Eome,  against  whose  power  those  moun- 
tain fastnesses  afforded  no  protection,  from  whose  terrific 
crags  they  "  rolled  mother  with  infant  down  the  rocks." 
From  other  places,  memorable  also  in  the  records  of  the 


THE    ANCIENT   WORTHIES   OUR   EXAMPLE.  24:1 

Clii'istian  martvrology,  I  came  to  France  and  stood  in 
the  lieart  of  that  beautiful  capital  where  pomp  and 
worldlv  gaiety  and  crime  hold  a  perpetual  camiyal. 
The  most  gorgeous  pubUc  show  my  eje  ever  -beheld, 
just  then  took  place  ;  but  amidst  the  festivities  of  the 
season,  I  could  not  but  look  back  two  centuries  and  a 
lialf,  when  in  the  same  place  were  enacted  the  horrors 
of  Saint  Bartholomew's  eve  ;  and  tens  of  thousands  of 
faithful  Huguenots  were  miserably  butchered  to  glut  the 
rage  of  the  dominant  party,  and  extii'pate,  if  possible, 
the  very  roots  and  fibres  of  Huguenot  piety.  And  again 
my  wanderings  led  me  to  that  Oxford,  dear  to  learning, 
and  dear,  too,  to  Protestant  Christianity ;  and  on  the 
spot  where  Latimer  and  Ridley  burned,  my  footsteps 
paused.  It  required  no  effort  of  imagination  to  recall 
the  past.  The  scene  rose  life-like  before  me.  I  seemed 
to  hear  the  words  of  stout-hearted  old  Latimer,  whose 
spii'it  a  torturing  deatli  could  not  repress :  '•  Fear 
nothing,  brother  Eidley ;  we  shall  this  day  kindle  a  fire 
in  England  that  by  God's  grace  shall  never  go  out." 
And  noble  Eidley,  too,  I  seemed  to  hear  crying,  "  Oh  ! 
the  flames  do  not  come  to  me  ;  will  none  stir  the  fire  ?'' 
when  the  green  fagots  did  slowly  their  crael  ofiice,  and 
only  the  powder  tied  about  him,  at  length  ended  his  tor- 
tures. I  thought  of  Smithfield  and  the  days  of  bloody 
Mary ;  of  the  great  cloud  of  Reformation  mai^tyrs  in  Bo- 
hemia, and  Holland,  and  Spain,  and  theii-  holy  witness- 
ings  for  the  ti-uth  as  it  is  in  Jesus.  And  when  I  pondered 
the  great  facts  of  theii'  history,  I  could  not  but  ask  again, 
where  was  the  motive,  what  principle  was  it  that  could 
inspire  not  one,  nor  a  few  enthusiasts,  but  multitudes  of 
difierent  places  and  education,  of  diflerent  social  posi- 
tion and  habits,  to  do  violence  to  nature's  rooted  afiec- 
tions  and  spuni  the  world's  allurements,  and  refuse 
deliverance  when  it  was   offered,  if  only  they  would 

11 


242  THE   NEW   YORK   PULFTT. 

renounce  their  Christian  profession.  Such  scenes  dis- 
closed the  force  of  Christian  principle,  and  I  could  not 
but  see  that  the  New  Testament,  as  well  as  the  Old,  has 
its  array  of  confessors ;  that  they,  too,  this  host  of  modern 
martyrs,  "  through  faith  and  patience  inherit  the  pro- 
mises." Promised  grace  was  given  to  support  them  in 
fearful  straits ;  and  heaven  threw  wide  its  everlasting 
doors  to  receive  their  ascending  spirits.  Here  truly  was 
the  patience  and  the  victory  of  the  saints. 

III.  I  call  your  attention  to  the  exhortation  of  the 
Apostle :  "  Be  not  slothful,  but  followers."  Such  in- 
stances, in  former  and  later  times,  were  exhibited  in 
Providence,  to  show  what  power  there  is  in  the  princi- 
ples and  spirit  of  the  gospel ;  and  they  are  examples 
intended  for  our  encouragement  and  imitation,  as 
circumstances  shall  demand.  We  may  learn  from  them 
that  nothing  in  the  way  of  affliction  is  likely  to  happen 
unto  us,  greater  than  others  have  been  carried  through. 
Our  trials  will  almost  certainly  be  small  indeed,  com- 
pared with  theirs ;  with  what  multitudes  of  untaught 
men,  and  feeble  women,  have  met  in  other  days.  Why 
then  should  we  shrink,  or  murmur  1  We  shall  not,  in 
human  probability,  be  subjected  to  such  extremes  of 
suffering  as  many  of  them  endured.  Blessed  be  God, 
the  times  are  changed,  if  not  the  dispositions  of  men, 
and  literal  martyrdom  is  not  the  call  of  the  age.  Yet, 
brethren,  each  of  us  shall  have  trials  to  meet  on  our  way 
to  the  promised  rest.  It  is  the  law  by  which,  in  com- 
mon life,  energy  and  endurance  are  produced.  And,  in 
the  spiritual  economy,  our  "  faith  and  patience,"  and  the 
various  graces  of  the  new  creation,  must  be  drawn  forth 
and  corroborated,  and  made  useful  by  opposition  and 
exercise.  Each  scene  of  social  or  business  activity, 
every  relation  and  enjoyment,  may  become  the  place 


THE   ANCIENT  WORTHIES   OUE  EXAMPLE.  243 

and  cause  of  trial.  Our  tempers,  our  love  to  divine 
things,  the  prevalence  of  devout  or  carnal  affections,  of 
worldliness  or  spirituality,  are  best  proved  by  this  ex- 
posure to  the  operation  of  daily  and  hourly  influences 
around.  Though  often  hardly  perceptible,  they  do  not 
the  less  decisively  show  "  what  manner  of  spirit  we  are 
of."  And  I  am  inclined  to  think,  that  what  are  regarded 
as  the  smaller  trials  of  every-day  life  are  a  much  more 
reasonable,  and  expressive  test  of  our  piety  than  many 
splendid  acts  of  observed  and  admired  Christian  heroism. 
There  are  natural  as  well  as  promised  supports  to  the 
latter,  which  the  former  want ;  and,  at  the  best,  single, 
though  glorious  acts  are  less  indicative  of  character  than 
the  spirit  we  display  in  the  daily  conversation  of  years. 
And  I  imagine,  also,  that  the  ease  with  which  a  Christian 
profession  may  now  be  taken  up,  and  a  creditable 
Christian  standing  maintained,  may  tend  to  weaken  and 
undermine  that  vigor  of  religious  principle  which  the 
exposed  circumstances  of  confessors,  their  liability,  at 
any  moment,  to  be  called  to  seal  their  profession  with 
life  itself,  would  natui'ally  confirm.  It  may  be  more 
difficult  to  rule  one's  spirit,  than  to  fashion  outward 
conduct ;  more  difficult,  certainly,  to  turn  off  the  eye 
from  the  world,  amidst  the  blandishments  of  wealth, 
and  ease,  and  reputation,  and  standing  among  our 
fellow-men,  than  if  we  should  be  made  "  the  offscouring 
of  all  things."  We  may  be  seduced  to  forget  those  dis- 
tant glories,  to  remit  our  watchfulness,  and  so,  in  a 
measure,  forego  our  preparation,  and  dim  the  lustre  of 
the  crown,  when  there  is  so  little  call,  apparently,  for 
"  faith  and  patience."  Therefore,  keep  in  sight  the 
grand  reward;  consider,  more  earnestly,  "the  end  of 
your  faith,  the  salvation  of  your  soul ;"  meditate  much 
upon  the  nature,  and  the  blessedness  of  heaven  ;  try  to 
inflame  your  desires ;  to  attune  your  voices  for  its  melo- 


244  THE   NEW   YORK   PULPIT. 

dious  concert ;  to  attire  your  spirits  for  its  companion- 
ship ;  to  plume  your  wings  for  flight.  As  days,  and 
months,  and  years  roll  on,  become  more  wakeful  for  the 
summons,  and  stand  ready  to  go  when  called.  We 
follow  a  goodly  company.  From  the  grey  dawn  of 
time  to  this  moment  they  have  marched,  in  compact 
ranks,  to  "  the  glory  in  reserve ;"  in  the  world,  but  not 
of  the  world.  They  have  struggled  through  narrow 
defiles,  over  rugged  ways,  amidst  exposure  and  conflicts ; 
enduring  a  great  fight  of  afiliction,  yet  onward  and  up- 
ward. For  a  moment  their  line  is  broken,  and  we  lose 
sight  of  the  moving  host,  as  they  pass  down  through  the 
river  of  death.  But  anon  the  column  is  advanced  to 
the  heights  above  ;  the  standard  of  tlie  Captain  of  their 
salvation  floats  in  triumph  over  the  walls  of  the  celestial 
city ;  and  see,  see,  from  the  battlements,  their  waving 
hands,  and  radiant  forms,  and  exultant  gestures  encourage 
our  fainting  hearts,  and  beckon  us  on  to  the  mount  of 
victory  on  which  they  stand.  Patriarchs,  and  prophets, 
and  apostles,  and  martyrs  are  there ;  saints  of  all  ages 
and  climes  ;  your  own  friends  departed  in  Christ,  there 
they  are,  and  there  they  wait  to  welcome  you.  Oh ! 
what  a  meeting,  and  what  a  greeting  will  that  be,  when, 
all  our  toils  ended,  the  conflict  over,  the  struggle  of 
"faith  and  patience"  shall  be  forgotten  amidst  the 
gratulations  and  glories  of  the  rest  above.  Up,  Chris- 
tian ;  up,  young  convert ;  think  of  the  triumph ;  think 
of  those  already  saved,  "  whose  faith  follow,  considering 
the  end  of  their  conversation,  Jesus  Christ,  the  same 
yesterday,  to-day,  and  forever."  Yes !  yes !  we  will 
follow,  God  helping.  We  will  meet  the  self-denying 
hour ;  we  will  toil  up  the  steep  ascent,  bearing  our 
cross ;  and  "  our  feet  shall  stand  within  thy  gates,  O 
Jerusalem." 
The  subject  is  well  adaj^ted,  both  to  incite   and  en- 


THE   ANCIENT   WORTHIES   OUR   EXAMPLE.  245 

courage  the  Christian.  It  brings  into  view  his  dangers 
and  hopes  ;  the  great  and  constant  necessity  there  is  for 
watchfulness,  and  diligence,  and  self-denying  exertion, 
and  the  consolation  springing  from  the  gracious  .pro- 
mises of  his  Saviour  that  his  labors  shall  not  be  in  vain. 
He  is  called  to  serve  his  Master  by  a  life  of  devout  affec- 
tions and  active  usefulness  ;  to  serve  him  by  inward 
graces  of  humility,  and  meekness,  and  gentleness,  and 
purity,  and  self-denial,  and  by  the  outward  practice  of 
whatsoever  things  are  true,  and  honest,  and  of  good 
report :  to  receive  into  his  mind,  to  cultivate  in  his  soul, 
and  to  carry  out  into  daily  exemplification  that  system 
of  transcendent  doctrine,  of  sublime  morality,  of  sus- 
tained beneficence,  which  the  'New  Testament  incul- 
cates. "While,  to  animate  his  heart,  he  has  the  great 
and  precious  promises,  a  bright  reserve  of  glory  to  be 
revealed,  and  the  holy  lives  and  triumphant  deaths  of 
many  believers,  who  have  passed  this  way  before  and 
left  their  testimony  to  the  truth  of  the  Saviour's  word 
and  the  efficacy  of  the  grace  he  imparts  to  his  followers. 
Let  the  trials  by  the  way,  then,  be  counted  light  by  us, 
brethren,  while  we  hasten  to  the  coming  of  the  Lord. 
Let  not  sloth  retard ;  see  that  the  grace  within  is  ever 
active  and  growing.  "  If  ye  do  these  things  ye  shall 
never  fail ;  for  so  an  entrance  shall  be  ministered  unto 
you  abundantly  into  the  everlasting  kingdom  of  our 
Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ." 

Finally  :  the  young  convert  and  the  inquirer  may  be 
instructed  from  our  theme.  They  may  learn  from  it  the 
true  nature  of  the  service  to  which  they  are  invited,  and 
the  grounds  of  encouragement  they  have  to  enter  it. 
Religion  is  not  a  profession  merely,  but  imposes  duties 
and  demands  vigorous  effort  to  prosecute  it  successfully 
to  the  end.     It  is  of  the  heart  first ;  an  inward  power 


246  THE    NEW    YOKK    PULPIT. 

wliicli  moulds  the  emotions  and  volitions  of  the  mind  to 
its  own  elevated  standard  of  purity ;  and  then  it  shows 
itself  infallibly  in  the  life,  directing  its  purposes  and 
aims  so  as  best  to  promote  the  true  dignity  and  happi- 
ness of  the  individual  himself,  and  to  become  a  salient 
spring  that  shall  pour  streams  of  goodness  on  all  around. 
Any  other,  or  lower  idea  of  religion  than  this;  any 
notion  that  because  it  is  respectable,  or  will  insure  our 
safety,  we  must  submit  to  its  requisitions ;  that  we  will 
accept  its  restraints,  that  we  may  be  sure  of  its  rewards ; 
anything  short  of  a  loving  heart,  and  an  obedient,  useful 
life,  will  be  of  no  avail.  But  such  a  purpose  once 
formed  at  the  call  of  Christ,  the  future  will  be  blessed, 
whatever  present  trials  we  may  experience,  or  our 
Christian  profession  may  involve.  For  from  that  mo- 
ment we  become  heirs  of  "  the  inheritance  of  saints  in 
light."  All  present  consolations  equally  with  those  pros- 
pective glories  become  ours.  The  Saviour  condescends 
to  receive  us  into  his  family,  and  treat  us  as  his  children. 
He  will  supply  all  our  needs  according  to  the  riches  of 
his  grace.  In  humble  dependence  upon  his  promised 
aid  we  may  travel  on  through  our  pilgrimage ;  nor  need 
we  fear  want  or  foe.  His  promise  will  make  even  the 
patriarch's  stony  pillow  soothing  to  our  heads;  and  a 
widow's  cruse  an  inexhaustible  provision.  The  dark 
night  of  sorrow  shall  be  cheered  with  songs ;  and 
through  our  whole  way  his  rod  and  his  staff  shall  sup- 
port us.  Wlien  we  reach  the  confines  of  Canaan,  the 
angels  of  the  country  shall  stand  ready,  the  Lord's  host, 
to  conduct  us  safely  over  Jordan  into  the  rest  which  he 
hath  spoken  to  us  of.  There  our  wanderings  shall  for 
ever  cease ;  we  shall  come  to  the  fellowship  of  that 
noble  army  we  followed  below ;  we  shall  enter  the  gates 
of  that  city  whose  walls  are  adamant,  whose  streets 
are  paved  with  fine  gold,  which  hath  no  need  of  the  sun 


THE   ANCIENT   WORTHIES   OUK   EXAMPLE.  247 

to  light  it,  for  the  Lamb  is  the  light  thereof;  where 
the  inhabitants  shall  not  say,  I  am  sick ;  the  people  that 
dwell  there  shall  be  forgiven  their  iniquities. 

There  all  the  divine  purposes  shall  be  unfolded,  the 
darkness  of  Providence  dispelled,  the  mysteries  of  grace 
solved.  We  shall  look  back  without  a  murmur  or 
regret  upon  the  events  of  our  passage  through  the 
world :  around  with  satisfaction  upon  the  place,  its  com- 
panionship and  occupations  ;  and  onward  with  ineffable 
delight  through  the  cycles  of  its  joy.  We  shall  adore  a 
faithful  Saviour,  and  confess  of  the  leadings  of  his  hand 
that  "  he  hath  done  all  things  well." 


XYII. 

mCENTIYES  TO  SEEK  COMPAOTOI^SHrP 
WITH  ISEAEL. 

BY   J.   KENNADAY,   D.D. 
Pastor  of  the  Pacific  street  Methodist  Church,  Brooklyn. 

We  are  journeying  unto  the  place  of  which  the  Lord  said,  I  will  give 
it  you :  come  thou  with  us,  and  we  will  do  thee  good ;  for  the  Lord 
hath  spoken  good  concerning  Israel. — Numbers  x.  29, 

In  almost  every  portion  of  Scripture  which  refers  to 
Moses,  there  is  much  of  interest  and  instruction.  From 
the  period  of  so  much  anxiety  to  his  mother  and  sister, 
when  they  placed  him  in  the  frail  ark  "  in  the  flags  by 
the  river's  brink,"  until  he  terminated  his  pilgrimage 
upon  the  summit  of  Mount  Nebo,  his  entire  life  was 
most  eventful.  Selected  to  be  the  guide  of  an  oppressed 
people,  to  mould  the  institutions  of  their  civil  and 
ecclesiastical  polity,  and  honored  in  being  an  illus- 
trious type  of  that  prophet  which  God  was  to  raise  up 
from  among  the  Jews,  his  life,  in  many  of  its  features, 
exemplified  the  power  of  religion  in  the  formation  of 
character,  while  his  teachings  elucidate  the  righteous- 
ness of  the  divine  government. 

True  character  is  frequently  developed  in  tender  and 
delicate  incidents,  no  less  than  in  more  imposing  acts. 
It  is  in  this  that  the  transaction  here  narrated  acquires 
its  greatest  interest.  It  was  not  an  event  of  great  public 
concernment  so  much  as  of  private  interest.  It  was  an 
act  of  kindness  in  which  the  party  evincing  it  allowed 

248 


INCENTIVES  TO  SEEK  COMPANIONSHIP  WITH  ISKAEL.    240 

not  the  liigli  tilings  of  his  official  position  to  deter  him 
from  attending  to  the  humbler,  but  no  less  important 
duties  resulting  from  social  relations.  The  first  year  of 
the  journey  of  the  Israelites  in  the  wilderness  had 
expired,  and  the  tribes,  gathering  under  their  respective 
standards,  were  watching  the  moving  of  the  rising 
cloud,  when  Moses,  amid  the  accumulated  interests  of 
the  solemn  hour,  addressed  the  language  of  the  text  to 
Hobab,  his  brother-in-law.  The  passage  is  strongly 
indicative  of  true  religious  character,  and  worthy  of 
our  best  religious  reflection.  In  its  consideration  we 
shall  notice — 

I.  The  CHAiSACTEK  BY  WHICH  HE  DESIGNATES  THE  PEOPLE 

OF  God. 

II.  His  anxiety  that  othees  should  shake  in  their 

HAPPDTESS. 

I.  The  chaeactek  by  which  he  designates  the  people 
OF  God. 

1.  They  were  a  journeying  jpeojple.  But  a  little  while 
before,  they  were  restrained  from  this  journey  by  the 
oppressions  they  suffered  in  the  house  of  bondage. 
Their  struggles  were  feeble  compared  with  the  power 
of  their  adversaries,  and  their  servitude  was  humiliating 
and  painful.  He  whose  strength  is  made  "  perfect  in 
weakness,"  regarded  their  sighs,  and  with  an  arm  more 
powerful  than  that  of  Pharaoh,  he  brought  them  into  a 
liberty  in  which  they  ascribed  "  greatness  unto  God." 

Such,  even  now,  is  the  character  of  the  Church. 
"  Delivered  from  the  power  of  darkness,  and  translated 
into  the  kingdom  of  God's  dear  Son,"  it  sings  the  song 
of  the  Lamb,  as  the  children  of  Israel  chaunted  the  song 
of  Moses.  "Being  made  free  from  sin,  ye  have  your 
fruit  unto  holiness,  and  the  end  everlasting  life." 
Happy  the  people  who  share   this  blessed  liberation. 

11* 


250  THE   NEW   YORK    PULPIT. 

Once  carnal,  and  "  sold  under  Bin,"  "  their  cry  came  up 
unto  God,  by  reason  of  tlie  bondage."  The  great  deliv- 
erer came,  saying,  "  He  hath  sent  me  to  bind  up  the 
broken-hearted,  to  proclaim  liberty  to  the  captives,  and 
the  opening  of  the  prison  to  them  that  are  bound." 

Chosen  out  of  the  world,  the  Church  obeys  the  voice 
of  him  who  says,  "  this  is  not  thy  rest,  it  is  polluted." 
"Eise,  let  uf,  go  hence."  Whatever  may  be  the  incon- 
veniences, tne  trials  and  sufferings  of  the  people  of  God 
in  the  wilderness,  their  position  is  far  in  advance  of  their 
former  condition. 

2.  TJicy  were  not  yet  in  the  Icmd  of  rest.  A  state  of 
probation  necessarily  involves  trial.  The  enjoyments 
of  heaven  will  consist  largely  in  the  consummation  of 
graces  which  had  their  beginning  and  training  upon 
earth.  The  warfare  is  here.  Earth  is  the  battle-place 
which  shall  test  the  temper  of  the  weapons  of  warfare, 
and  the  energy  of  the  hand  that  wields  them.  Tlie 
trials  incident  to  a  religious  life  are  intended  to  teach 
the  followers  of  God  that  they  must  set  their  "  affections 
upon  things  above,  not  on  things  on  the  earth,"  and  to 
convince  them  that  "  all  chastening  is  designed  to  hum- 
ble thee,  and  to  prove  thee,  to  know  what  was  in  thine 
heart,  whether  thou  wouldst  keep  his  commandments  or 
no."  In  this  journeying  state  of  Israel  we  see  the  esti- 
mate we  should  still  form  of  the  Church.  Redeemed 
from  the  corruptions  and  darkness  of  her  former  state, 
and  yet  not  fully  entered  into  the  high  privileges  of  her 
promised  heaven,  she  surveys  with  exultation  the  deliv- 
erances of  the  past,  and,  animated  by  a  humble  faith, 
she  journeys  onward  in  prospect  of  the  future.  This 
character  of  the  Church,  midway  between  the  house  of 
lier  bondage  and  the  land  of  repose,  is  too  often  forgot- 
ten by  those  who  look  upon  the  tabernacles  of  the 
righteous.    The  Church  must  not  now  be  compared  with 


INCENTIVES  TO  SEEK  COMPANIONSHIP  WITH  ISRAEL.    251 

tliat  Chiu'cli  which  in  its  glorified  state  shall  be  pre- 
sented to  the  eternal  King  in  all  the  chaste  and  exalted 
attributes  of  her  final  redemption ;  she  is  yet  in  the 
wilderness.  But  comparing  her  with  her  former  cap- 
tivity, she  now  "  looketh  forth  as  the  morning,  fair  as 
the  moon,  clear  as  the  sun,  and  terrible  as  an  army  with 
banners."  Thus  the  Church  moves  onward  to  her 
glorious  and  destined  j)lace  of  promise.  To  discern 
the  true  character  of  Christians,  the  world  must  judge 
them  as  not  yet  "  glorified."  Consider  their  former 
servitude,  their  unpi-ofitableness,  their  unfruitfulness, 
and  you  will  find  in  them  a  virtue  as  superior  to  their 
former  state  as  it  is  wanting  in  the  perfections  of  heaven. 
The  cares  attaching  to  the  life  that  now  is,  must  neces- 
sarily engage  a  portion  of  every  Christian's  attention. 
In  his  devotion  to  these,  his  own  proneness  to  err,  and 
the  misapprehension  of  others,  will  often  lead  many  to 
wonder  at  his  many  deviations,  and  even  to  question 
the  genuineness  of  his  profession.  Were  men  of  the 
world  more  generally  to  take  this  view  of  the  Church, 
they  would  see  less  at  which  to  be  offended. 

"  He  who  does  best  his  circumstance  allows, 
Acts  well,  does  nobly — angels  can  no  more." 

3.  They  helieved  in  the  rest  which  was  jpromised  them. 
The  place  promised  to  Abraham  and  his  people  so 
frequently,  is  referred  to  as  an  emblem  of  heaven.  Such 
is  particularly  the  reference  of  St.  Paul,  "  there  remain- 
eth  therefore  a  rest  to  the  people  of  God."  "  Whither 
I  go,  ye  know,  and  the  way  ye  know."  "  In  my  Father's 
house  there  are  many  mansions;  if  it  were  not  so  I 
would  have  told  you."  A  future  state  of  existence  is  a 
subject  of  almost  universal  belief,  though  to  the  Pagan 
world  a  subject  of  much  obscurity.  However  dark  the 
features  of  religion  in  the  heathen  world,  yet  all  systems 


252  THE    NEW    YORK    PULPIT, 

teacli  a  future  of  rewards  and  retributions.  Obscure 
and  conflicting  as  their  theories  may  be,  ofttimes  even 
grossly  absurd,  still  some  trace  of  this  belief  everywhere 
is  found.  Whether  this  sentiment  comes  from  tra- 
dition, or  whether  "it  is  the  divinity  that  stirs  within 
us,"  it  is  to  be  resj)ected.  But  while  all  others  walk  in 
uncertainty  uj)on  this  great  subject,  the  Christian  has 
"  life  and  immortality  brought  to  light  in  the  gospel  of 
Christ.  Like  the  "  pillar  of  cloud,"  the  Scriptures  "  shine 
as  a  light  in  a  dark  place."  They  teach  "  that  God 
having  provided  some  better  thing  for  us,"  assures  us 
that  to  be  "  absent  from  the  body  is  to  be  present  with 
the  Lord."  We  journey  to  that  place,  says  Israel. 
Following  the  Lamb  whithersoever  he  leadeth,  "we 
labor  to  enter  into  that  rest."  Our  eyes  have  never 
looked  over  its  scenes  of  unmarred  beauty,  nor  have  our 
feet  ever  trodden  its  ways  of  pleasantness,  yet  our  faith 
and  hope  have  ofttimes  brought  us  fruit  of  their 
gathering,  and  these  have  been  our  spies  to  descry  its 
abundant  pleasures.  Of  that  place,  the  Lord  hath  said 
to  Israel,  "  I  will  give  it  3^ou ;"  and  they  journey  in  the 
full  belief  of  its  existence,  and  that  amid  its  resplendent 
scenes,  they  shall  have  rest  for  evermore. 

4.  Tliey  were  a  people  to  whom  God  had  s^ohen  good. 
This  avowal  illustrates  the  power  of  the  faith  of  Moses. 
JSTeither  the  frequent  repinings  of  tlie  people  and  their 
instability,  nor  the  hostility  of  opposing  nations,  would 
so  move  him  from  his  faith  in  God,  as  to  teach  him  to 
distrust  the  divine  benevolence  in  all  the  leading  of  the 
people.  Let  Amalek  smite.  Let  Kora  revolt.  Still 
God  rides  upon  the  heavens  in  the  help  of  his  people, 
and  "  all  things  work  good  to  them  who  love  God." 
He  had  chosen  to  "  suffer  affliction  with  the  people 
of  God,"  and  he  knew  that  bitter  waters,  even  of  a  full 
cup,  would   sometimes   be   their  portion,  but  he  was 


INCENTIVES  TO  SKKK  COMPANIONSHIP  WITH  ISRAEL.       253 

equally  assured  that  evey  birtter  fount  should  feel  the 
virtue  of  the  "  branch  of  sweetness."  By  the  power  of 
the  faith  through  which  "  he  forsook  Egypt,  not  fearing 
the  wrath  of  the  Idng,"  he  "  endured  as  seeing  him  who 
is  invisible."  Many  who  are  deep  in  tribulation  in  this 
life,  shall  be  nearest  the  throne  in  the  life  to  come. 
Faith,  surmounting  the  trials  and  sorrows  incident  to 
the  present  state  of  being,  enables  them  to  journey  in 
full  assurance  that  God  "  has  spoken  good  concerning 
Israel :" 

"  God  is  my  strong  salvation ; 

What  foe  have  I  to  fear  ? 
In  darkness  and  temptation, 

My  light,  my  help,  is  near ! 
Though  hosts  encamp  around  me, 

Firm  in  the  fight  I  stand ; 
What  terror  can  confound  me, 

With  God  at  my  right  hand  ?" 

II.  His  ANXIETY  THAT  OTHERS  SHOULD  SHAEE  IN  THEIR 
HAPPINESS. 

Solicitude  for  others  is  not  only  commendable  as 
a  Christian  feeling,  but  is  requisite  in  every  heart 
desiring  the  prosperity  of  the  cause  of  Christ.  How 
any  one  can  claim  the  character  of  a  follower  of  God, 
and  feel  no  ardent  desire  for  the  salvation  of  others, 
is  not  a  little  mysterious.  JSTor  is  it  alone  through 
a  high  respect  for  the  honor  of  God  that  we  should 
seek  to  commend  religion  to  the  serious  attention  of 
others.  While  this  consideration  of  infinite  importance 
should  never  be  forgotten,  we  should  be  mindful  that 
the  "common  salvation"  is  promoted  by  individual 
instrumentality.  The  conversion  of  the  sinner  from  the 
error  of  his  way  "  saves  a  soul  from  death." 

"  'Tis  not  the  whole  of  life  to  live. 
Nor  all  of  death  to  die." 


254  THE   NEW   YORK    PULPIT. 

He  who  makes  no  eifort  for  the  salvation  of  others, 
has  great  reason  to  distrust  his  own.  This  solicitude 
consists  not  only  in  a  frequent  utterance  of  the  prayer, 
"  Thy  kingdom  come,"  but  in  the  kind  and  impressive 
invitation  to  those  who  are  "  without,"  to  come  with  tlie 
people  of  God.  It  was  this  charity  and  affection  that 
hurried  Andrew,  refreshed  with  the  lovely  view  of  the 
Lamb  of  God,  first  to  find  his  brother,  Peter,  saying, 
"  we  have  found  the  Messias."  It  was  this  which  took 
the  woman  from  the  well  of  Jacob,  to  tell  the  people  of 
Sychar  of  the  purity  and  refreshing  of  the  waters  of  the 
upper  spring.  It  was  this  that  filled  Jerusalem  with  the 
tidings  of  the  resurrection — brought  great  joy  to  the 
city  of  Samaria,  and  gladdened  the  heart  of  Barnabas, 
Avhen,  in  Antioch,  ''  he  saw  the  grace  of  God,"  developed 
by  the  efforts  of  the  "  men  of  Cyprus  and  Cyrene."  It 
was  this  that  led  Moses,  amid  the  general  and  solemn 
responsibilities  of  an  hour  when  commanding  ''  the 
many  thousands  of  Israel,"  to  follow  the  ark,  to  feel  for 
a  single  heart,  and  to  say,  "  Come  thou  with  us,  and  we 
will  do  thee  good." 

1.  The  fervor  of  his  solicitude  is  indicated  in  its  extent. 
That  "it  is  good  to  be  always  zealously  affected  in  a 
good  thing,"  is  a  maxim  to  which  men  yield  a  ready 
assent.  In  the  great  interests  of  religion,  however,  espe- 
cially in  our  social  relations,  our  attention  is  directed  to 
general  or  ordinary  subjects,  w^liile  the  more  direct  or 
personal  exertions  of  piety  are  performed  with  tardiness, 
if  not  wholly  neglected.  Tlie  denomination  to  which 
we  may  be  attached,  may,  through  the  very  force  of  its 
numbers,  gain  accessions,  and  without  much  of  that 
cooperation,  which  individuals  may  evince  in  improving 
the  indications  of  providence  and  grace,  there  may  be 
frequent  additions  to  our  respective  communions.  Such 
prosperity  alone  should  not  satisfy  the  pious  heart.     As 


INCENTIVKS  TO  SEEK  COMPANIONSHIP  WITH  ISRAEL.    255 

Naomi  said  to  Kuth,  "  Where  hast  thou  gleaned  to-day, 
where  has  thou  wrought? "  So  says  the  searching  voice 
of  the  constraining  Spirit.     Were  there  more  labor  in 
detail,  who  would  estimate  the  accumulation  of  pros- 
perity.   The  immeasurable  joys  of  heaven  prevented  not 
its  angels  from  distinct  interest  in  the  conversion  of  a 
single  sinner,  when  of  Saul  it  was  said,    "  behold  he 
prayeth."     Tliough  the  twelve  tribes,  imposing  in  the 
number  of  their  "  many  thousands,"  were  heeding  the 
trumpet  which  commanded  the  people  to  go  forward, 
though  these  formed  the  Israel  host,  yet,  in  the  large- 
ness of  his  heart,  Moses  looks  upon  another— his  friend, 
his  relative,   an   "ahen  from    the    commonwealth  of 
Israel—"  and  to  that  single  heart  says,  "  Come  thou,  and 
go  with  us ;  we  will  do  thee  good."   E^o  former  prosper- 
ity should  induce  us  to  withhold  present  exertion.     The 
great  apostle,    animated  by  this  solicitude,  spent  an 
entire  night  associated  with  Silas,  to  urge  the  jailer  and 
his  house  to  believe  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.     Before 
judges  and  princes  his  appeals  were  made  with  reference 
to  their  personal  salvation,  forgetful  of  himself.      JSTo 
man  is  a  greater  blessing  to  a  particular  church,  than 
the  one  who,  seeking  the  lost  sheep,  brings  them  to  the 
shepherd  and  bishop  of  souls.     Oh,  brethren,  let  not  the 
success  nor  delinquency  of  others  induce  us  to  be  re- 
miss, but  let  us  seek  the  spirit  of  him  who  says,  "  Let 
us  not  be  weary  in  well  doing,  for  in  due  season  we 
shall  reap,  if  we  faint  not." 

2.  His  solicitude  was  importunate.  "The  natural 
man  receiveth  not  the  things  of  the  Spirit  of  God." 
What  conceptions  can  a  man  bom  blind  have  of  the 
realizations  of  light?  With  all  love  and  patience  Anna- 
nias  must  labor  until  the  scales  fall  from  the  eyes  of  Saul. 
Slow  to  beHeve,  men  require  to  be  instructed  in  meek- 
ness.    Even  the  eagle,  with  all  its  after  love  of  the 


256  THE   NEW   YORK   PULPIT. 

higher  light,  is  slow  at  first  to  trust  his  mighty  wing, 
and  cowers  down  when  urged  to  soar.  ]^o  maryel  that 
the  soul,  allied  to  the  world  by  every  habit  and  attach- 
ment, repels  the  kind  entreaties  of  piety.  Let  no  Chris- 
tian be  re2)ulsed  by  denial,  nor  discouraged  by  indiffer- 
ence. The  entreaty  of  Moses  was  decidedly  declined 
by  Ilobab,  who  said,  "  I  will  not  go ;  but  I  will  depart 
to  mine  own  land,  and  to  my  kindred."  His  heart,  so 
strongly  attached  to  his  own  country  and  kindred,  was 
reluctant  to  seek  even  the  good  resulting  from  union 
with  Israel.  Our  habits  are  too  strongly  formed  to  be 
overcome  without  effort,  and  our  associations  are  too 
formidable  to  be  relinquished  until  our  hearts  are  pene- 
trated by  that  power  by  which  we  may  be  crucified  unto 
the  world.  So  adverse  to  the  claims  of  religion  are  the 
tendencies  of  nature,  that  men  generally  reject  the 
inducements  to  a  religious  life.  But  no  such  rejection 
should  dismay  the  Christian,  nor  induce  him  to  with- 
hold the  "  word  in  season."  Had  the  Saviour  become 
wearied  with  our  denials,  who  of  this  assembly  would 
now  be  sharing  the  blessings  of  salvation  ?  Who  among 
us  yielded  to  the  earlier  calls  of  grace  ?  Some,  perhaps 
may  have  regarded  the  voice  of  the  God  of  Samuel,  and 
early  in  life  they  may  have  said,  "  speak  Lord,  for  thy 
servant  heareth."  Early  in  the  day  some  may  have 
entered  into  the  vineyard,  but  many  have  loitered  until 
even  the  eleventh  hour.  The  divine  heart  yearns  over 
the  hardness  of  the  human  heart,  while  God  utters  the 
lamentation,  "  All  day  long  I  have  stretched  forth  my 
hands  unto  a  disobedient  and  gainsaying  people."  Did 
Moses  relinquish  his  persuasion,  when  Ilobab  said,  "  I 
will  not  go ;  but  I  will  depart  to  mine  own  land,  and  to 
my  kindred."  No ;  but  with  an  importunity,  evincing 
alike  his  intensity  and  affection,  he  said,  "  Leave  us  not, 
I  pray  thee ;  forasmuch  as  thou  knowest  how  we  are  to 


INCENTIVES  TO  SEEK  COMPANIONSHIP  WITH  ISEA.EL.    257 

encamp  in  the  wilderness,  and  thon  mayest  be  to  us 
instead  of  eyes.  And  it  shall  be,  if  thou  go  with  us — 
yea,  it  shall  be,  that  what  goodness  the  Lord  will  do 
unto  us,  the  same  will  we  do  unto  thee."  Patience  is 
an  element  of  character,  which,  in  any  good  pursuit, 
must  know  no  change  only  to  strengthen  into  determi- 
nation. Solicitude  must  become  impoi-tunate.  Knowing 
the  power  of  truth,  and  the  energy  of  the  spirit  which 
accompanies  it,  we  should  never  allow  our  fervor  to  be 
quenched  by  the  apparent  indifference  of  those  whom 
we  endeavor  to  persuade  to  a  better  course.  Some  seed 
will  fall  by  the  wayside,  some  on  the  rock,  and  some 
among  thorns,  but  some  may  fall  upon  good  ground, 
and  yield  an  increase,  whose  fragrance  and  fruition  shall 
abundantly  compensate  the  toil  of  those  who  have  borne 
"  the  burden  and  heat  of  the  day."  "  In  the  morning 
sow  thy  seed,  and  in  the  evening  withhold  not  thy 
hand;  for  thou  knowest  not  whether  shall  prosper, 
either  this  or  that,  or  whether  they  both  shall  be  alike 
good."  Successive  and  vigorous  efforts  may  accomplish 
what  at  first  seemed  difficult,  or  even  doubtful.  It  is 
not  the  first  blow  of  the  axe  that  brings  down  the  stately 
tree,  though  each  successive  appliance  may  send  tremor 
to  the  extreme  of  the  highest  branch.  "He  that 
winneth  souls  is  wise."  Whatever  repulse  our  efforts 
may  meet,  let  us  still  importune  with  an  affection 
that  surmounts  every  impediment,  and  which  is  ever 
"  mighty  through  God." 

3.  His  solicitude  was  courteous  and  affectionate  in  its 
appeal.  In  his  appeal,  Moses  urges  two  considerations ; 
the  first  addressed  to  Hobab's  own  personal  and  admissi- 
ble interest :  "  We  will  do  thee  good  ;  and  it  shall  be,  ii 
thou  go  with  us,  yea,  it  shall  be,  that  what  goodness  the 
Lord  shall  do  unto  us,  the  same  will  we  do  unto  thee." 
It  is  not  the  province  of  religion,  it  is  true,  entirely  to 


258  THE   NEW   YORK    PULPIT. 

exonerate  its  professors  from  trials,  yet  it  is  one  of  its 
greatest  attributes  to  proclaim,  amid  the  severest  trial, 
"  my  grace  is  sufficient  for  thee ;  for  mj  strength  is 
made  perfect  in  weakness."  No  true  interest  of  a  com- 
munity, nor  of  an  individual,  is  impaired  by  piety. 
"  Godliness  is  profitable  to  all  things,  having  promise  of 
the  life  that  now  is,  and  of  that  which  is  to  come."  The 
advantages  which  usually  attach  to  a  religions  life  are, 
in  many  instances,  natural  as  well  as  providential  and 
gracious,  inasmuch  as  the  disrespect  of  the  obligations 
of  religion  often  tend  to  the  violation  of  those  laws  of 
nature  which  are  intended  for  the  protection  of  health 
and  life,  and  the  promotion  of  ordinary  prosperity. 
When  religion  is  the  controlling  power  of  the  heart, 
purifying  and  prompting  all  motives,  it  "  addeth  no  sor- 
row," and  fortifies  the  soul  against  self-reproach,  and  all 
the  evils  incident  to  the  disregard  of  the  government  of 
God.  Look  around  you,  and  consider  the  character  of 
those  who  serve  God  and  those  who  serve  him  not,  then 
ask  yourself  who  are  the  more  virtuous  and  happy  ?  In 
this  comparison  it  must  be  remembered  that  "  a  man's 
life  consisteth  not  in  the  abundance  of  the  things  which 
he  possesseth."  "  The  little  that  a  righteous  man  hath 
is  better  than  the  riches  of  many  wicked."  "With  Christ, 
and  through  Christ,  the  contented  and  peaceful  spirit  of 
religion  receives  the  allotment  of  providence.  Religion 
may  not  invariably  secure  temporal  prosperity,  yet  its 
entire  spirit  is  more  likely  to  promote  even  the  tempo- 
ral welfare  of  men.  "  We  will  do  thee  good,"  is  graven 
upon  the  portals  of  Zion.  "  Wliat  doth  the  Lord  require 
of  thee,  but  to  do  justly,  and  to  love  mercy,  and  to  walk 
humbly  with  thy  God  ?"  "  The  judgments  of  the  Lord 
are  true  and  righteous  altogether,"  "  and  in  keeping  of 
them,  there  is  great  reward." 

But  it  was  not  alone  the  good  that  Hobab  was  person- 


INCENTIVES  TO  SEEK  COMPANIONSniP  WITH  ISRAEL.    259 

ally  to  secure,  that  formed  the  argument  by  which 
Moses  urged  him  to  unite  with  Israel.  He  appealed  to 
that  desire  to  be  useful  which  should  be  cherished  by 
every  man.  "  'No  man  liveth  unto  himself."  For  good 
or  for  evil,  every  mam  makes  some  impression  on  the 
world  around  him.  The  heart  must  be  hard  indeed, 
that  never  beats  under  a  sense  of  its  responsibility  to 
God  and  to  man.  Many  hearts  will  feel  this  motive 
when  personal  considerations  are  less  potent;  so  thought 
Moses,  when  he  said,  "  Leave  us  not,  I  pray  thee  ;  for- 
asmuch as  thou  knowest  how  we  are  to  encamp  in  the 
wilderness,  and  thou  mayest  be  to  us  instead  of  eyes." 
The  Church  is  constituted  of  those  who  may  say,  "  For, 
as  we  have  many  members  in  one  body,  and  all  mem- 
bers have  not  the  same  office  ;  so  we,  being  many,  are 
one  body  in  Christ,  and  every  one  members  one  of  an- 
other." Mutual  dependence  and  sympathy  exist  in  the 
various  relations  of  society.  However  diversified  the 
temperament  of  men,  or  however  varied  their  gifts,  each 
possesses  elements  of  character  which  may  be  sanctified 
to  "  the  profit  of  many."  We  must  never  treat  with  in- 
difference those  "who  are  without."  "Act  towards 
your  enemies  as  though  you  expected  soon  to  make 
them  youi'  friends,"  was  the  advice  which  Cyrus  gave. 
Armies  are  often  equipped  with  weapons  taken  from 
their  adversaries ;  and  as  David  said  of  the  sword  of 
Goliah,  "  there  is  none  like  it."  So  everything  useful  in 
the  natural  possession  of  man,  may  be  rendered  subser- 
vient to  the  cause  of  God,  when  "  sanctified  unto  honor." 
The  gem  in  "  the  hole  of  the  pit"  may,  by  the  hand  of 
the  heavenly  lapidary,  receive  a  form  and  brilliancy  in 
which  it  may  glow  on  the  breast-plate  of  the  great  high 
priest,  or  sparkle  upon  the  coronet  of  the  Prince  of  Peace. 
God  had  promised  Israel  that  he  would  go  before  them. 
The  unfailing  banner  of  glory  had  led  them,  in  the  cloud 


260  THE    NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

by  day  and  tlie  pillar  of  flame  by  night.  What  need, 
then,  had  Israel  of  the  eyes  and  knowledge  of  this  iin- 
circumcised  Midianite  ?  Shall  the  Church  be  depend- 
ent upon  man  ?"  JSTo  ;  bnt  herein  is  seen  the  condescen- 
sion of  God,  that  he  can  choose  men  "  out  of  the  w^orld, 
and  ordain  them  that  they  bear  much  fruit."  He  can 
send  bread  to  his  prophet  in  his  wilderness  retreat,  in 
the  bill  of  a  little  raven,  and  open  the  fountain  to  the 
vision  of  Hagar  through  the  agency  of  an  angel ;  he  can 
feed  the  multitude  in  the  wilderness,  by  multiplying  the 
barley  loaves  and  small  Ushes,  carried  by  the, hands  of  a 
boy,  or  he  can  strengthen  the  world  amid  a  general  fam- 
ine, by  the  bread  provided  through  the  wisdom  of  the  ex- 
alted Joseph.  Society  abounds  with  men,  who  lack  but 
the  "  one  thing  needful,"  to  make  them  pillars  of  strength 
and  beauty  in  wisdom's  temple.  'No  talent  is  so  hum- 
ble, no  ability  so  exalted,  that  it  cannot  acquire  beauty 
and  strength  by  its  contact  with  the  cross.  In  our  expos- 
tulations with  men  to  become  Christians,  let  us  not  only 
admonish  them  of  the  blessedness  inuring  to  themselves 
from  partaking  of  the  "  common  salvation,"  but  let  us 
urge,  with  no  less  fervor,  the  great  incentive  that  every 
converted  heart  is  a  "vessel  of  mercy,"  which  may 
bear  to  others  the  intimations  of  that  grace  which  ena- 
bles the  Christian  to  live  "  the  life  of  faith  in  the  Son 
of  God,"  and  ultimately  to  ascend  from  the  scenes  of  his 
toil  to  those  of  his  eternal  rest,  and  when  he  shall  bear 
to  the  garner  of  God  "  his  sheaves  rejoicing." 

APPLICATION. 

1.  In  conclusion,  let  me  say  to  those  who  rejoice  in 
being  numbered  with  the  sacred  host  of  God's  elect, 
that  you  should  evince  your  high  appreciation  of  your 
emancipation  from  "  the  yoke  of  bondage,"  by  the  rea- 
diness with  which  you  journey  towards  the  land  of  your 


INCENTIVES  TO  SEEK  COMPANIONSHIP  WITH  ISRAEL.    261 

nobler  freedom.  Trials  are  incident  to  your  journey. 
"  Know  that  the  sufferings  of  this  present  time  are  not 
worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  glory  that  shall  be 
revealed  in  us."  "Whatever  sufferings  may  be  your 
portion,  or  whatever  the  "reproaches  of  Christ,"  you 
may  be  called  to  struggle  with,  still  endure  "  as  seeing 
him  who  is  invisible ;"  singing  in  the  land  of  thy  pil- 
grimage : 

"  How  oft,  when  dark  misfortune's  band, 

Around  their  victims  stood, 
The  seeming  ill,  at  thy  command, 
Hath  changed  to  real  good." 

2.  Let  your  heart,  my  brother,  be  greatly  humbled 
under  a  due  sense  of  your  great  unfruitfulness  in  the 
cause  of  Christ.  To  whom  have  you  said,  "  Come  thou, 
and  go  wdth  us  ?"  Of  all  now  before  the  throne,  who 
have  gone  "  out  of  great  tribulation,"  and  of  all  now 
"journeying  to  the  place  of  which  the  Lord  said,  I  will 
give  it  you,"  whose  soul  has  been  won  to  God  by  your 
instrumentality?  Can  you  designate  any  ?  Oh!  think 
upon  this  subject  seriously,  and  then  say,  "Lord,  what 
wilt  thou  have  me  to  do  ?"  If  a  consciousness  of  past 
remissness  should  press  upon  your  heart,  let  your  prayer 
be,  with  that  of  David,  "  Cast  me  not  away  from  thy 
presence,  and  take  not  thy  Holy  Spirit  from  me  :  restore 
unto  me  the  joy  of  thy  salvation,  and  uphold  me  with 
thy  free  Spirit.  Then  will  I  teach  transgressors  thy 
ways ;  and  sinners  shall  be  converted  unto  thee." 

3.  To  those  who  still  walk  about  Zion,  but  as  yet 
have  never  entered  into  her  palaces,  who  have  no  in- 
lieritance  in  Jacob,  let  my  text  embody  the  greeting  of 
this  Church.  By  the  purity  of  their  lives,  by  the  charity 
of  their  spirit,  by  the  fervor  of  their  love,  with  which 
you  are  so  familiar,  they  say,  "  Come  thou,  and  go  with 
us."     Of  the  happiness  of  Israel  you  have  no  doubt. 


2G2  THE    NEW   YORK    PULPIT. 

With  an  admiration  that  yon  could  scarcely  suppress, 
you  have  often  said,  ''How  goodly  are  thy  tents,  O 
Jacob,  and  thy  tabernacles,  O  Israel!"  Say  then,  in 
the  decision  that  took  Moses  out  of  Egypt,  that  made 
Joshua  the  servant  of  the  living  God — oh !  say  to  the 
Church,  "  Thy  people  shall  be  my  people,  and  thy  God 
my  God." 


XYIII. 
THE  CEOSS  CONTEMPLATED. 

BY  EDWARD  T.  HISCOX,  D.D., 
Pdstor  of  Stanton  street  BaptUt  Clvwrch. 

And  sitting  down,  they  watched  him  there. — Matt.  xxj(vii.  86. 

The  last  act  in  the  cruel  tragedy  was  transpiring. 
Malicious  hearts  and  wicked  hands  had  triumphed, 
and  the  innocent  victim  of  persecution  and  hatred  was 
expiring  in  agony.  Tlie  long  conflict  of  error  with 
truth,  of  bigotry  and  envy  against  the  manifest  power 
of  God,  now  subsided.  The  false  witnesses,  the  unjust 
sentence,  the  scourge,  the  nails  and  the  spear,  had  with 
summary  judgment  disposed  of  the  question  which  had 
divided  public  opinion,  and  disquieted  the  land  so  long. 
Jesus  at  length  was  on  the  cross.  The  jealous  guardians 
of  ancient  traditions,  the  teachers  and  defenders  of  old 
forms,  could  now  rest  from  their  anxious  strife,  and  give 
their  thoughts  to  festive  scenes.  So  far  as  he  was 
concerned,  they  had  nothing  now  to  do  but  to  see  him 
die.     "  And  sitting  down,  they  watched  him  there." 

What  a  scene !  With  what  varied  interest  did  the 
gathered  multitude  contemplate  the  sufferer.  The  city 
walls  were  thronged  with  curious  spectators  ;  the 
grounds  around  and  overlooking  the  cross  were  filled 
with  the  jostling  crowd.  But  what  diverse  chords  were 
struck,  when  the  hammer  drove  the  nails.  What 
strange  discordant  notes  were  touched  by  the  spear 

2G3 


2G4:  thp:  new  yoke  pulpit. 

that  pierced  his  side.  The  joy  and  triumph  of  his  foes, 
the  grief  and  anguish  of  his  friends,  the  indifference, 
scorn,  or  pitj  of  the  idle  spectators — even  these  emo- 
tions might  now  to  some  degree  cease  with  the  excite- 
ment of  the  events.  The  deed  was  done.  He  was  safe, 
for  the  time  at  least,  and  each  could  now  with  calmer 
thoughts  contemplate  the  case,  and  judge  of  it  as  he 
might  be  disposed.  "  And  sitting  down,  they  watched 
him  there." 

This  text  well  describes  the  attitude  which  the  world 
maintains  towards  ^Christ  crucified.  The  scene  most 
truthfully  illustrates  the  disposition  of  men  towards  the 
gospel  of  God's  grace.  The  people  stand  contemplating 
the  spectacle  of  a  suffering  Saviour,  and  awaiting  the 
results  of  gospel  trials  and  of  gospel  triumphs  with  the 
varied  interest  which  their  relations  to,  and  their  regard 
for,  that  gospel  would  naturally  inspire.  Indeed,  Christ 
crucified  is  the  spectacle  which  commands  the  attention 
of  the  world.  Friends  and  foes  have  acted  their  subor- 
dinate parts  in  the  events  of  its  history,  but  divine 
grace  is  unfolding  its  mysteries  to  men,  and  the  wonder- 
ing nations  wait  to  see  the  end.  An  attention  is  being 
given  to  the  preaching  and  the  progress  of  Christianity 
in  individual  hearts,  in  congregations,  in  cities,  in  states, 
in  nations,  never  before  known.  The  cross  stands  cen- 
tral to  all  the  interests  of  humanity.  ISTew  relations  are 
found  to  exist  between  the  gospel  and  the  welfare  of 
society,  whether  personal,  domestic,  social,  commercial, 
or  governmental.  Far  off  and  near,  Christ  is  set  forth, 
crucified  before  all :  "  And  sitting  down,  they  watched 
him  there." 

I.  Tliey  watched  him  as  enemies  who  rejoiced  in  his 
sufferings. 

A  considerable  part  of  those  who  watched  him  there 


THE   CROSS    CONTEMPLATED.  266 

were  the  bitter  foes  that  had  followed  him,  as  the  wolf 
tracks  its  prey,  thirsting  for  his  blood.  They  had 
plotted  his  ruin,  and  rested  only  from  their  devices  of 
iniquit}^  now  that  they  saw  him  secure  npon  the  cross. 
Envy  and  malice  found  here  their  first  repose.  Year 
after  year.  Scribe  and  Pharisee,  Priest  and  Levite,  had 
witnessed  his  rising  fame  wdth  emotions  of  mortified 
pride,  of  disappointed  ambition,  of  growing  hatred, 
whip h  were  painful  to  be  borne.  They  had  defamed  him 
before  his  friends  ;  they  had  exasperated  his  foes ;  they 
had  stirred  the  rulers  against  him,  and  left  no  method 
untried  to  compass  his  destruction.  Was  not  this, 
therefore,  a  joyful  hour  to  them?  Their  schemes  were 
crowned  with  success.  Their  hopes  were  realized. 
What  malicious  joy  must  have  filled  their  hearts,  as 
from  the  city  walls  they  saw  the  Lamb  of  God  slain 
by  wicked  hands.  Every  groan  to  them  was  as  a  shout 
of  victory.  They  could  now  make  long  prayers  in  the 
market  places  and  at  the  corners  of  the  streets  ;  destroy 
widows'  houses;  and  lay  heavy  burdens  on  men's 
shoulders,  with  a  more  sanctimonious  show  of  godliness 
than  ever,  since  they  had  put  out  of  the  way  him  whom 
they  hated  most  of  all.  "  And  thus  sitting  down,  they 
watched  him  there." 

Alas  !  did  they  not  know  that  there  hung  theii'  own 
hope  ?  That  the  only  redemption  for  men  was  in  that 
sacrifice?  Blinded  by  unholy  passion,  they  neither 
kuew  nor  cared  for  methods  of  grace  nor  ways  of  salva- 
tion. Tlieir  work  was  to  destroy.  With  calm  satisfac- 
tion they  could  contemplate  the  achievement  of  their 
purposes,  the  resii  \  of  long  and  anxious  endeavor. 

Thus  has  it  ever  oeen.  Thus  is  it  now.  Tlie  enemies 
of  Christ  watch  his  cause  and  the  progress  of  the  gospel, 
with  that  peculiar  interest  with  which  one  watches  his 
deadly  foe,  seeking  to  do  him  harm,  and  rejoicing  in  every 

12 


2GG  THE   NEW   YOKK    PULPIT. 

calamity  that  befalls  him.  Has  not  the  world  seen  enough 
of  the  gospel  and  received  enough  of  its  blessings  to  love 
it  and  desire  its  success  ?  It  might  be  supposed  so.  And 
yet  in  every  community,  perhaps,  are  found  those  who 
hate,  persecute,  and  labor  to  destroy  the  cause  of  Christ. 
They  tln-ow  every  obstacle  in  the  way  of  its  prosperity, 
and  rejoice  in  all  its  adversity.  Sitting  down,  they 
watch  with  earnest  desire  the  coming  of  evil  upon  the 
name  and  the  cause  of  Jesus. 

Wretched,  self-deceived  men !  why  do  you  attempt  to 
destroy  the  only  hoj)e  of  a  guilty  world  ?  Why  do  you 
madly  try  to  extinguish  the  only  light  that  can  cheer 
life's  dark  path,  and  dispel  the  gloom  of  death's  darker 
hour  ?  You  hate  the  Cross — you  curse  the  Church — you 
vilify  the  Christian  name — ^you  reproach  religion  in  the 
presence  of  your  family  and  friends — ^you  teach  your 
children  to  grow  up  revilers  of  that  sacred  name  by 
which  alone  we  must  be  saved.  And  when  it  is  all 
accomplished,  what  have  you  done?  You  have  de- 
stroyed, not  the  gospel,  but  your  own  soul.  You  have 
not  delayed  by  one  step  the  march  of  conquering  grace, 
but  you  have  secured  an  inevitable  perdition  to  yourself 
and  perhaps  to  those  you  love.  In  your  attempt  to  give 
the  suifering  Saviour  vinegar  and  gall,  you  have  filled 
your  ow^n  cup  with  the  bitterness  of  death,  which  you 
shall  drink  to  its  very  dregs.     This  you  have  done! 

You  yourself  must  be  saved  by  Christ  crucified,  or 
forever  perish.  Every  blow  you  strike  at  him  you 
strike  against  your  own  welfare.  On  that  ship  your 
own  eternal  destinies  are  embarked,  together  with  those 
of  all  you  love.  If  it  founders,  you  must  go  down ! 
Would  you  sink  it,  and  consign  yourself  to  eternal 
death  ?  Or  if  you  are  resolved  to  die,  spare,  oh,  spare 
the  souls  of  those  you  love !  Let  them,  come  to  Cln-ist 
and  be  saved.     Cease  your  uidioly  attempts  to  set  them 


THE   CROSS    CONTEMPLATED.  267 

more  at  enmitj  against  their  God.  If  they  will  be 
reconciled,  do  not  hinder  them.  Will  it  mitigate  your 
sorrows,  for  them  to  perish  with  you  ?  Will  it  make 
your  fate  more  tolerable,  for  them  to  be  your  partners  in 
it?  Tlie  rich  man  lifted  up  his  eyes  in  torment,  and 
prayed  that  his  brothers  might  be  spared  that  dreadful 
doom.  Are  you  more  heartless,  or  less  considerate  than 
he  ?  Do  you  covet  the  companionship  of  relatives  and 
friends  while  suffering  the  judgments  of  a  righteous  God? 

Foolish  and  wicked  men !  You  who  set  yourselves  in 
array  against  the  Lord  and  his  Anointed,  be  sure  the 
time  is  at  hand  for  him  to  take  to  himself  his  great 
power  and  reign.  Then  will  he  slay  his  enemies  before 
his  face.  You  have  said  with  profane  and  insulting 
jest,  "  Come  down  from  the  cross  and  we  will  believe 
on  thee."  He  does  not  accept  your  challenge,  nor 
gratify  your  curiosity  for  new  miracles.  Still  is  Christ 
on  the  cross,  lifted  up  to  draw  all  men  unto  him.  On 
the  cross  that  you  might  watch  him.  But  even  there 
he  conquers  ;  conquers  in  his  humiliation  and  suffering. 
Do  you  not  hear  many  a  centurion,  many  a  soldier,  who 
perhaps  have  helped  to  crucify  him,  exclaim,  as  his 
dying  agonies  shake  the  world,  rend  the  veil  of  supersti- 
tion, break  the  rocks  of  impenitency,  and  call  forth 
from  the  grave  of  years,  souls  dead  in  trespasses  and 
sins,  "Surely  this  is  the  Son  of  God?" 

But  he  will  come  down  from  the  cross  when  the  work 
of  his  redeeming  grace  is  done.  He  will  come  down 
from  the  cross  and  ascend  the  throne  of  his  dominion. 
A  sceptre  of  righteousness  is  the  sceptre  of  his  kingdom, 
and  he  shall  reign  until  he  hath  put  all  enemies  beneath 
his  feet.  Then,  guilty  sinner,  you  who  wage  your 
insane  warfare  against  the  gosjDcl,  who  withstand  the 
Spirit,  who  despise  the  means  of  grace,  you  will  learn 
that  Christ  can  dest/roy  as  well  as  save. 


268  THE    NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

Be  persuaded  to  cease  your  strife ;  submit  to  the 
sacred  influences  that  can  save  you,  and  rejoice  with 
those  who  rejoice.  The  proud  and  wicked  scribes  and 
priests  might  have  found  pardon  and  a  paradise  at  the 
hand  of  Jesus,  as  well  as  the  dying  thief^  had  they,  like 
him,  sought  it.  So  may  you.  l^o  longer  sit  watching 
as  an  enemy,  but  come  as  a  penitent,  and  receive  his 
pardon  and  blessing. 

n.  They  watched  him  as  friends  who  were  afflicted  in 
his  sufferings. 

They  were  not  all  enemies  who  surrounded  that  cross, 
who  witnessed  that  scene.  There  were  some  true  and 
faithful  hearts,  wrung  with  deepest  anguish  in  that 
dreadful  hour.  The  iron  had  entered  their  soul.  And 
though  helpless,  and  almost  hopeless,  within  them 
glowed  a  holy  affection  which  even  death  could  not 
quench.  There  were  his  mother  and  his  brethren,  and 
many  others  of  whom  he  had  said,  "the  same  is  my 
mother,  my  sister,  and  my  brother."  "And  all  his 
acquaintance,  and  the  women  that  followed  him  from 
Galilee,  stood  afar  off  beholding  these  things."  The 
"  daughters  of  Jerusalem,"  with  a  great  company  of 
people  that  followed  him,  "which  also  bewailed  and 
lamented  him." 

A  friend  and  a  brother  was  suffering  an  unjust  and  a 
cruel  death.  Could  they  be  insensible  to  that  scene? 
They  did  not  arise  in  vindictive  anger  to  avenge  his 
death.  That  was  not  the  evidence  of  love  he  desired. 
He  had  taught  them  to  be  patient  in  suffering — ^not  to 
resist  evil,  but  to  leave  the  recompense  with  God. 
Sorrow  was  in  many  a  heart  that  day,  and  the  voice  of 
wailing  and  of  woe  went  up  to  heaven,  as  witness 
against  that  devoted  city.  Many  a  prince  had  died  in 
Jerusalem,  and  been  borne  to  his  sepulchre  with  great 


THE    CROSS    CONTEMPLATED. 

lamentation.  But  never  had  king  or  priest  given  up 
the  ghost  in  the  midst  of  a  more  true  and  sincere  sorrow, 
surrounded  bj  a  deeper  and  more  genuine  mourning, 
than  when  the  Prince  of  the  kings  of  the  earth  died  on 
Calvary,  l^o  royal  palace  sheltered  him,  no  bed  of  state 
sustained  his  sinking  form,  no  crimson  canopy  gave  a 
sacred  privacy  to  his  last  hour,  and  shut  out  the  profane 
gaze  of  the  mocking  multitude.  Exposed  to  public 
scorn,  writhing  with  inflicted  tortures,  insulted  with 
ribald  jests,  he  bowed  his  head  and  died. 

Yet  many  were  there  who  suffered  in  his  suffering, 
and  would  have  given  their  life  to  have  spared  his. 
Hearts  there  were  that  beat  responsive  to  every  throb 
of  agony  he  felt,  and  tears  by  many  wept,  as  only  they 
can  weep  who  love  much.  "And  sitting  down,  they 
watched  him  there." 

Thus  the  friends  of  Jesus,  with  alternate  hope  and 
fear,  watch  the  fortunes  of  his  cause.  Afflicted  in  its 
afflictions,  grieved  when  it  declines,  and  in  their  own 
souls  feel  every  blow  struck  by  hostile  hands  against  it. 
Their  own  welfare  is  forever  one  with  its  prosperity. 
Its  darker  hours  are  as  the  gloom  of  death  to  them. 
Their  love  is  stronger  than  their  faith  ;  and  in  every 
new  reverse  they  see  a  new  occasion  for  despondency, 
but  do  not  realize  the  better  time  to  come. 

Ah,  fearful  Christian,  take  fresh  courage!  What 
though  the  Lord  you  love  is  on  the  cross ;  he  will  come 
down  and  save  both  himself  and  you.  You  think  some- 
times that,  through  your  many  infirmities,  you  shall  not 
see  the  land  that  is  afar  off.  Be  not  disheartened.  The 
arm  extended  on  the  cross  is  mighty  to  save.  You, 
though  faint  and  feeble,  shall  see  the  King  in  his  glory, 
as  well  as  in  his  shame. 

You  think  the  foes  of  the  gospel  are  many,  and  its 
friends   are   few.     You   think   the   opposition   arrayed 


270  THE   NEW   Y.)RK   PULPIT. 

against  it  will  succeed,  and  the  cause  you  love  will  die. 
You  think  the  misdeeds  of  its  professed  friends  multij^ly 
its  disasters,  and  cast  a  darker  shade  over  its  prospects. 
"No ;  you  deceive  yourself.  There  are  brighter  days  for 
Zion,  and  honors  for  Emanuel,  that  eye  hath  not  yet 
seen.  The  Pentecost  of  gospel  promise  is  yet  to  come. 
Give  to  the  winds  your  fears.  Sit  not  there  to  watch 
and  weep,  but  arise  to  pray,  and  work,  and  wait. 

Child  of  God,  be  encouraged.  Trust  and  be  not  dis- 
mayed. Do  you  read  no  prophecy  of  coming  good  in 
the  bursting  tombs  ?  Do  you  discern  no  token  of  gosj)el 
conquest  in  the  earthqii  .ike's  shock  ?  Do  you  see  in  the 
gathering  darkness  no  presage  of  the  downfall  of  sin  ? 
Those  wonders  which  proclaimed  his  godhead,  when  his 
own  tongue  was  mute  in  death,  and  convinced  his 
executioners  of  his  divinity,  should  have  inspired  his 
friends  with  hope.  Is  it  a  time  for  you,  discij)le  of 
Jesus,  to  fear  and  faint,  when  many  of  his  enemies  are 
becoming  obedient  to  the  faith  ?  There  is  working,  as 
well  as  weeping,  to  be  done.  Even  then  there  was  a 
service,  as  well  as  a  sacrifice  of  love,  to  be  performed. 
A  tomb  was  to  be  provided,  spices  purchased,  and  linen 
clothes  made.  Hands  must  be  busy,  though  hearts 
were  breaking.  Some  one  must  go  to  Pilate  and  beg 
the  sad  privilege  of  burying  him. 

Arise,  Christian!  The  Sabbath  of  an  eternal  rest 
draws  near.  Let  the  preparations  be  finished  before 
your  sun  shall  go  down.  See,  through  the  darkness, 
the  hope  of  an  endless  life  cheers  you,  and  visions  of 
glorious  things  overspread  the  future.  Let  no  one  be 
idle,  let  no  one  be  indifterent.  Let  no  one  who  loves 
him,  sit  down  to  watch  the  Kedeemer's  cause,  leaving 
the  toils  and  the  conflicts  to  others.  Is  there  nothing 
you  can  do  for  him  ?  Are  there  none  whom  he  has 
committed  to  your  care,  as,  with  his  dying  breath,  he 


THE   CROSS   CONTEMPLATED.  2T1 

did  to  the  disciple  wliom  lie  loved  ?  None  for  whose 
welfare  you  are  to  provide  ?  Has  he  said  to  no  one  of 
you,  "Behold  thy  mother!"  Behold  thy  parent!  Be- 
hold thy  child  !  thy  brother — sister — ^friend — neighbor  ! 
Do  not  sit  down  to  watch  him,  and  leave  his  command 
mifulfilled,  and  liis  work  undone. 

It  is  to  be  feared  that  many  of  the  disciples  of  Christ, 
some,  perhaps,  in  all  our  churches,  are  sitting  down  to 
watch  the  fight  of  faith,  but  unwilling  to  engage  in  it. 
They  leave  to  others  the  conflict,  and  do  not  identify 
themselves  with  the  cause.  They  are  not,  indeed,  indif- 
ferent to  its  issue.  They  desire  its  success  ;  they  rejoice 
in  its  prosperity  and  sorrow  in  its  misfortunes.  And  yet 
they  are  rather  spectators  of  the  Saviour's  cause,  than 
actors  in  it.  Some  falsely  and  foolishly  plead  their 
inability  to  do  anything.  Some  are  so  engrossed  and 
overburdened  with  the  world,  its  business  and  its  cares, 
as  to  have  little  time,  and  less  disposition,  for  the  service 
of  godliness.  And  some,  from  long  spiritual  inactivity, 
disuse  of  their  capabilities,  and  habitual  neglect,  scarcely 
know  what  to  do,  or  how  to  undertake  even  that  which 
they  might  desire  to  attempt.  "  And,  sitting  down,  they 
watch  him  there." 

Christian  brethren,  receive  a  word  of  exhortation. 
Especially  to  young  disciples  I  speak.  Do  not  sit  down 
to  watch  Christ  crucified,  in  any  such  sense  as  implies 
your  fear  of  the  final  failure  of  his  cause,  or  as  intimates 
a  doubt  that  he  will,  in  his  own  time,  come  down  from 
the  cross,  and  gloriously  triumph  over  all  his  foes.  ]^or 
yet  in  any  such  sense  as  will  give  occasion  to  suppose 
that  you  are  not  personally  interested  in,  and  identified 
with,  his  cause.  Labor  for  it,  sufi'er  with  it,  lose  yourself 
in  it.  Let  your  life  be  hid  with  Christ  in  God ;  and 
though  now  you  may  appear  with  him  in  reproach,  and 


272  THE   NEW   YORK   PULPIT - 

in  sacrifice,  yet,  wlien  lie  comes,  you  shall  appear  with 
Mm  in  glory. 

III.  They  watched  him  as  spectators  who  were  indif- 
ferent to  his  fate. 

Many,  in  that  vast  concourse  of  witnesses  who 
gathered  about  Calvary,  were  idle  and  curious  specta- 
tors of  the  scene,  with  no  other  interest  in  it,  or  care  for 
it,  than  such  as  any  passing  incident  might  excite.  They 
came  to  witness  an  execution,  to  have  an  entertainment, 
and  looked  with  equal  unconcern  on  the  friends  and  foes 
of  Jesus.  To  the  most  of  them,  probably,  the  three 
crosses  were  alike.  They  cared  little  for  one  more  than 
for  another,  and,  had  it  not  been  for  Pilate's  superscrip- 
tion, they  could  not  have  distinguished  the  King  of  the 
Jews  from  the  thieves  by  his  side.  Certainly,  all  were 
not  his  friends,  nor  is  it  to  be  presumed  that  all  sympa- 
thized with  his  persecutors.  Doubtless  there  were 
many  of  the  common  people  who  heard  him  gladly ; 
many,  perhaps,  of  those  who  spread  their  garments  in  the 
way  and  cried,  "  Hosanna  to  the  Son  of  David ;"  some 
of  the  chief  priests  who  believed  on  him,  but  secretly, 
for  fear  of  the  Jews  ;  and  more  still,  from  all  countries, 
who  had  scarcely  heard  his  name. 

Jerusalem  was  full  of  strangers,  come  to  attend  the 
Passover.  Many  cared  too  little  even  to  go  out  and  see 
him  die.  And  of  the  very  great  company  who  sur- 
rounded Golgotha,  how  few  thought  that  they  had  any 
interest  involved  in  that  transaction.  Their  sympathies 
flowed  with  the  current  of  popular  feeling.  When  the 
clamorous  multitude  demanded  his  blood  they  would 
say,  "  Crucify  him."  When  the  malignant  thirst  of 
Jewish  bigotry  and  envy  was  satiated,  and  the  fearful 
tokens  of   divine  displeasure  against  his   persecutors. 


THE   CROSS   CONTEMPLATED.  273 

gave  new  witness  on  his  belialf,  tlien,  with  the  Centurion 
and  the  soldiers,  thej  conkl  exclaim,  "  Snrely  this  was 
a  righteous  man."  Why  should  they  care  ?  He  was 
no  father,  son,  or  brother  to  them.  No  friend,  or  rela- 
tive. They  had  not  brought  him  there.  They  had  not 
condemned  him.  If  he  lived,  they  would  not  be  the 
gainers,  nor  the  losers  if  he  died.  What  was  this  man 
more  than  another?  They  pitied  his  friends  perhaps. 
It  was  hard  for  his  mother.  And  his  sisters — they  were 
almost  broken  hearted.  How  touching  was  the  grief 
of  his  hrothers  ! 

And  this  is  the  way  in  which  the  great  mass  of  the 
people  contemplate  the  work  of  redemption.  This  is 
the  only  interest  felt  by  the  multitude  before  whose 
eyes  the  miracles  of  grace,  the  wonders  of  salvation 
through  Christ  crucified,  are  constantly  transpiring. 
Sitting  down,  they  watch  it  all  as  indifferent  specta- 
tors, with  no  personal  interest  whatever.  It  may  be 
very  well,  they  think,  for  those  who  desire,  to  be  re- 
ligious. Let  men  become  Christians  if  they  will ;  but 
as  for  them,  they  have  no  tiTne^  or  they  do  not  feel  the 
need  of  it,  or  they  are  not  ready  now.  To  them  Christ 
died  in  vain ;  to  them  he  is  a  root  out  of  a  dry  ground. 
Tliey  are  not  Ofjposed  to  religion,  but  think  it  a  good 
thing — so  they  say.  They  are  neither  for  Christ,  nor 
against  him ;  they  think  they  are  not.  Alas  !  they  de- 
ceive themselves  most  fatally ! 

Could  I  call  up  that  idle  throng  whose  jostling 
thousands  encircled  Calvary,  I  would  say,  "Is  it  nothing 
to  you,  O  careless  men !  that  this  bleeding  victim  dies  ? 
Do  you  not  see  through  those  gaping  wounds  the  way 
of  life  ?  Do  you  not  know  that  on  that  cross,  between 
tliose  thieves,  hangs  your  only  hope  of  heaven  ?  There 
is  God's  only  sacrifice  for  sin !  Do  you  not  imderstand 
that  it  is  needful  for  one  man  to  die  for  the  peoj)le,  that 


274:  THE    NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

tlie  wliole  nation  perish  not  ?  Has  Caiaphas  prophesied  in 
vain  ? 

And  the  same  I  say  to  you,  idle  watchers  of  tlie  work 
of  grace,  curions  spectators  of  the  gospeFs  power.  In 
this  cause  your  destinies  are  involved.  Can  you  he 
indifferent?  This  gospel  spreads  for  you,  starving  soul, 
a  feast  of  heavenly  bread,  and  you  must  eat  or  die. 
Careless  !  indifferent !  Could  you  be  careless  if  sinking 
into  the  depths  of  the  sea?  But  your  soul  will  sink 
lower  than  the  grave  unless  washed  in  the  blood  of 
atonement.  Could  you  be  indifferent  if  your  house  was 
being  consumed  with  fire,  and  your  childi-en  were  per- 
ishing in  the  flames  ?  But  except  you  receive  pardon 
through  the  dying  love  of  Christ,  and  are  justified  by 
the  merits  of  his  sacrifice,  a  fire  shall  be  kindled  that 
will  burn  to  the  lowest  hell,  and  consume  unbelievers 
as  the  stubble  of  the  field. 

Poor  sinner !  can  you  afford  to  sit  down  and  watch 
the  cross  with  calm  unconcern?  Have  you  not  too 
much  at  stake  ?  Can  you  face  the  danger  before  you 
without  anxiety?  Can  you  court  the  peril  to  which 
you  are  exposed  with  composure?  You  are  floating 
on  a  shattered  wreck  towards  fearful  reefs.  You  are 
drifting  with  the  fatal  tide  to  the  cataract's  brink.  You 
must  cast  anchor  on  Calvary  or  perish.  You  sit  calmly 
dow^n  and  watch  others  taking  refuge  in  Christ.  "What 
will  you  do  when  the  ark  shall  be  closed,  and  the 
sweeping  floods  shall  overwhelm  the  world  ? 

Poor  sinner !  shall  I  say  ?  Guilty  sinner  rather.  I 
must  not  speak  too  soothingly  of  your  state.  Sin  is 
your  misfortune,  indeed,  your  greatest  misfortune.  I 
pity  your  condition  ;  but  why  do  you  remain  in  it  ?  I 
am  astonished  at  your  insensibility.  Yes,  guilty  sinner ! 
for  sin  is  your  crime.  You  abuse  the  love  and  mercy 
of  God ;   you  refuse   to  be  saved  when  salvatation  is 


THE   CROSS   CONTEMPLATED.  275 

oifered  you.  Sin  binds  you  down  to  death,  and  you 
love  the  bondage.  Christ  died  for  you;  the  provisions 
of  his  grace  are  fur  you.  For  you  he  suffered  pain  and 
reproach  ;  for  you  he  died ;  for  you  he  has  sent  forth 
his  Spirit,  to  show  you  the  Avay  of  life  and  lead  you  to 
lieaven.  For  your  good  the  gospel  is  proclaimed ;  for 
your  salvation  God's  people  watch  and  pray.  Still  you 
are  unmoved,  perhaps,  and  contemplate  it  all  as  indif- 
ferent spectators  only.  Still,  sitting  down,  you  watch 
him  there  ;  and  come  no  nearer  to  the  cross,  than  from 
afar  to  look  upon  it. 

'No  external  instrumentalities,  no  surrounding  influ- 
ences can  save  you.  It  must  be  Jesus  Christ  within 
you.  You  must  have  an  experimental  interest  in  the 
merits  of  his  death,  or  for  you  he  has  died  in  vain.  You 
must  come  even  to  his  seat,  order  your  course  before 
him,  and  fill  your  mouth  with  arguments. 

Dear  friends,  how  long  will  you  be  idle  spectators  of 
these  marvellous  things  ?  Come  at  once  and  be  par- 
takers of  them.  Better  be  the  thief  on  the  cross  by  his 
side,  so  that  you  be  near  him  and  receive  his  dying 
blessing,  than  to  be  the  unconcerned  observer,  sitting 
down  to  watch  him  there.  Let  not  this  indifference  be 
your  ruin  ;  but  come  to  Chi'ist  and  have  eternal  life. 

CONCLUSIONS. 

Christ  on  the  CrOss,  is  a  spectacle  for  the  world,  for 
angels,  and  for  men.  Tliat  scene  should  command  the 
reverence  even  of  his  enemies,  while  angels  worship, 
and  the  redeemed,  with  gratitude,  adore. 

Let  all  watch  him  there. 

1.  As  exhibiting  the  dreadful  nature  and  the  sad  fruits 
of  sin. 

It  w^as  sin  that  made  such  a  fearful  sacrifice  necessary. 
Sin,  whose  history  was  written  by  the  scoui'ge,  the  thorns, 


276  THE   NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

tlie  nails,  the  spear.  Every  throbbing  agony,  every 
uttered  groan,  was  its  fruit.  3fy  sins — your  sins — the 
sins  of  a  guilty  and  a  lost  world.  The  sins  we  have  so 
much  loved,  so  often  cherished,  so  long  continued,  so 
unwillingly  relinquished.  In  the  Cross  of  Christ  the 
penalty  due  to  sin  is  seen  as  it  is  seen  nowhere  else. 
There  the  wrath  of  God  against  transgression  is  inscribed 
in  characters  of  blood. 

2.  As  setting  forth  the  amazing  love  of  God  to  guilty 
men. 

Who  that  contemplates  that  scene,  that  sits  down  to 
watch  the  sufferer  there,  but  must  witness  with  astonish- 
ment such  an  exhibition  of  divine  compassion,  where 
God  gives  up  his  Son  to  such  a  death  of  agony  and 
shame.  Tliat  love  is  experienced  in  the  daily  bounties 
of  a  gracious  Providence  ;  is  seen  in  the  works  of  crea- 
tion. But  when  he  that  had  no  sin  was  made  sin  for  us, 
and  the  just  for  the  unjust  died  to  bring  us  near  to  God, 
we  have  an  exhibition  of  love  that  finds  no  parallel. 

3.  As  presenting  an  example  of  humility  and  patient 
suffering. 

There,  children  of  men,  there  is  your  example !  Sit- 
ting down,  watch  him,  and  learn  how  the  innocent  can 
suffer  wrong  with  uncomplaining  meekness.  Learn  how 
to  bear  the  injuries  and  the  insults  of  men,  to  be  an- 
swered only  with  prayers  and  blessing.  Learn  how  to 
bear  the  severe  but  righteous  will  of  God,  and  wait  the 
recompense  of  future  years.  You  who  receive  with  ill- 
disguised  vexation  the  contradictions  of  the  wicked,  the 
persecutions  of  the  cruel,  the  adverse  providences  of  God. 
You  who  are  irritable,  complaining,  or  revengeful,  look 
at  the  dying  Saviour,  and  learn  to  suffer  and  forgive. 

Do  you  wonder  the  multitude,  when  they  had  seen  all, 
smote  upon  their  breast  and  returned?  "Was  it  the 
earthquake  and  the  darkness,  or  the  meek  suffering  and 


THE   CROSS   CONTEMPLATED.  27T 

the  dying  prayer  of  Jesus,  whicli  most  convinced  the 
mocking  soldiery  that  he  was  the  Son  of  God  ? 

Friends,  how  do  you  contemplate  Christ  crucified? 
Sitting  down,  you  watch  him  there,  with  what  disposi- 
tion and  in  what  relation  ?  As  the  enemies  who  hate 
him  ?  As  the  friends  who  love  him?  Or,  as  the  care- 
less throng  who  are  indifferent  to  him  ?  So  look  that 
your  souls  shall  live.  And  when  from  the  cross  of  his 
suffering  he  shall  take  the  throne  of  his  dominion,  you 
shall  appear  with  him  in  glory,  share  the  triumphs  of 
his  grace,  and,  sitting  down  amidst  the  radiant  throng, 
forever  watch  him  there. 


XIX. 
THE    STEAIT   GATE. 

BY  JOHN  M'CLINTOCK,  D.D., 

Pastor  of  St.  PauVs  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  Ne/w  York. 

Then  said  one  unto  hira,  Lord  are  there  few  that  be  saved  ?  And  he 
said  unto  them,  Strive  to  enter  in  at  the  strait  gate  :  for  many,  I  say 
unto  you,  will  seek  to  enter  in,  and  shall  not  be  able.  When  once  the 
Master  of  the  house  is  risen  up,  and  hath  shut  to  the  door,  and  ye  begin 
to  stand  without,  and  to  knock  at  the  door,  etc. — Luke  xiii.  23,  24. 

The  teaching  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  was  eminently 
practical.  So  far  was  he  from  introducing  abstract  and 
difficult  questions  into  his  own  discourses,  that  he  even 
rebuked  those  who  brought  them  to  him  for  solution. 
But  all  who  came  to  him  with  such  questions  were  sure 
to  get  good  advice,  even  if  their  curiosity  remained 
unsatisfied.  The  instance  in  our  text  is  a  case  in  point. 
One  came  inquiring  as  to  the  number  that  should 
be  saved ;  and  Christ  bade  him  "  strive  to  enter  in  at 
the  strait  gate."  As  if  he  had  said,  "  It  is  not  your 
business  to  inquire,  or  your  interest  to  know,  whether 
few  or^many  shall  be  saved,  but  to  use  your  most  ear- 
nest endeavor  to  be  found  in  that  blessed  number  your- 
self. All  that  shall  be  saved,  whether  they  be  few  or 
many,  must  be  saved  in  the  same  way,  by  striving  to 
secure  the  favor  of  God."  It  is  the  business  of  the 
Christian  not  to  speculate  uj)on  religion,  but  to  practise 
it.  Christianity  is  not  a  theory  but  a  life.  It  is,  per- 
haps,  not  going  too  far,  to  say  that  all  speculative 

278 


TflE    STRAIT    GATE.  279 

inquiries  which  have  no  relation  to  practice  are  unpro- 
fitable and  even  hurtful.  I  do  not  wish  you  to  under- 
stand me  as  dissuading  you  from  the  study  of  Christian 
doctrine,  even  of  its  more  difficult  topics,  if  you  study 
them  with  reference  to  the  Christian  life.  But  the  les- 
son of  our  text  rebukes  that  simply  inquisitive  spirit 
which  meddles  with  questions  absolutely  beyond  our 
comprehension,  or  speculates  upon  those  that  are  within 
it,  simply  for  the  sake  of  speculation.  The  tests  of 
Christianity  are  not  metaphysical  but  practical.  "  If 
any  man  will  do  his  will,  he  shall  know  of  the  doctrine, 
whether  it  be  of  God."  It  is  wise  for  us  to  remember 
that  while  there  is  much  to  be  done  in  our  state  of  pro- 
bation, there  is  comparatively  little  to  be  knotvn. 
There  is  a  mine  of  practical  wisdom  in  the  proverb, 

"  Do  what  is  right  in  thine  own  affair, 
The  rest  will  of  itself  take  care." 

My  simple  aim  in  this  discourse  will  be  to  develop  the 
proposition  that  the  great  business  of  our  life  on  earth 
should  be  earnest  effort  to  secure  our  salvation. 

I.  The  first  word  of  the  text  implies,  in  the  strongest 
manner,  that  there  can  be  no  Christian  life  without  ear- 
nestness. The  word  rendered  strive  (dycjvt^eade) ,  means 
primarily  to  contend  for  a  prize  in  the  public  games. 
Our  English  word  agonize  is  derived  from  it.  Paul 
makes  frequent  use  of  the  ancient  games — especially  of 
the  race — ^to  illustrate  the  Christian  career.  And  what 
higher  type  of  earnestness  could  he  offer,  than  the 
athlete,  trained  for  the  combat  long  and  carefully,  by 
rigid  drill  Imd  self-denial,  stripped  of  all  encumbrances, 
and  straining  every  nerve  to  win  the  prize?  Watch 
him  as  he  sets  out  at  the  word,  and  see  if  you  can  detect 
any  sign  of  indifi'erence  ?  Nay,  every  faculty  is  awake, 
and,  at  the  sound,  he  bounds  away.     Watch  him  during 


280  THE   NEW   YORK   PULPIT. 

the  progress  of  the  race,  as  he  passes  by  you.  Every 
fibre  of  his  frame,  from  the  crown  of  the  liead  to  the 
sole  of  the  foot,  quivers  with  the  teiiible  earnestness  of 
the  struggle.  Every  sinew  is  strained  to  its  utmost  ten- 
sion ;  every  muscle  is  playing  at  its  greatest  speed ;  his 
heart  beats  rapidly  with  the  high-strung  effort ;  he  will 
win  the  race  or  die. 

Ah !  this  is  striving.  And  Christ  enjoins  upon  you 
just  such  earnestness  as  this  in  the  Christian  race.  K 
you  are  careless  in  preparing  for  it,  you  shall  not  win. 
K  you  are  too  indifferent  to  the  issue  to  deny  yourself, 
you  shall  not  win.  K  you  try  to  carry  weights,  you 
shall  not  win.  "  So  run  that  you  may  obtain ;  and 
every  man  that  striveth  for  the  mastery  is  temperate  in 
all  things." 

n.  Another  figure  is  employed  in  the  text  to  illus- 
trate the  need  of  earnestness,  viz. :  the  strait  gate.  The 
difficulty  of  the  Christian's  task  is  represented  under  the 
figure  "  of  a  narrow  path,  conducting  through  a  nar- 
row gate,  into  the  strong  citadel  of  eternal  life."  It  is 
given  more  at  length  in  Matthew  (vii.  13,  14).  "  Enter 
ye  in  at  the  strait  gate  ;  for  wide  is  the  gate,  and  broad 
is  the  way  that  leadeth  to  destruction,  and  many  there 
be  which  go  in  thereat :  because,  strait  is  the  gate,  and 
narrow  is  the  way,  which  leadeth  unto  life,  and  few 
there  be  that  find  it."  Tlie  thought  which  underlies 
this  figure,  and  even  the  figure  itself,  may  be  found 
in  heathen  writers.  Pythagoras  used  to  say  to  his  fol- 
lowers, ''  there  are  various  ways  of  sinning ;  evil  is 
indefinite  ;  but  good  is  confined  to  one  precise  line." 
But  the  figure,  as  used  by  Christ,  has  a  point  and  defi- 
iiiteness  which  are  wanting  to  it  when  employed  to 
illustrate  mere  systems  of  ethics.  The  "  gate  "  of  eter- 
nal life  is  strait,  because  "  without  holiness  no  man 
shall  see  the  Lord."     There  is  but  one  way  to  salva- 


THE   STRAIT   GATE.  281 

tion ;  the  way  of  earnest  repentance  and  of  sincere 
faith.  And  our  text  represents  this  way  as  difficult ; 
the  entrance  to  it  is  "  strait." 

Do  not  misunderstand  me.  There  is  no  difficulty  in 
religion  in  and  of  itself.  Christ  is  not  a  hard  master  ; 
nay,  he  is  all  love  and  gentleness  and  benignity.  His 
words  of  invitation  are  full  of  grace  and  tenderness. 
"  Him  that  cometh  to  me  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out." 
"  Take  my  yoke  upon  you,  and  learn  of  me  :  for  I  am 
meek  and  lowly  in  heart ;  and  ye  shall  find  rest  unto 
your  souls.  For  my  yoke  is  easy,  and  my  burden  is 
light." 

The  commandments  of  God  are  not,  of  themselves, 
grievous.  But,  although  the  "  law  is  holy,  and  the  com- 
mandment holy,  and  just,  and  good,"  it  is  yet  our  mise- 
rable case,  before  we  come  to  Christ,  that  "  sin  worketh 
death  in  us  by  that  which  is  good,"  so  that,  although  the 
law  is  spiritual,  "  we  are  carnal,  sold  under  sin."  It 
would,  therefore,  be  a  sad  perversion  of  Christ's  gracious 
invitations,  to  make  them  mean  that  no  strife  is  necessary 
at  the  beginning  of  the  Christian  life,  no  earnestness  in 
its  continuance.  Safe  and  beautiful  as  the  narrow  way 
is,  it  runs  through  an  enemy's  country. 

K,  then,  you  are  about  to  hegin  the  Christian  life,  make 
up  your  mind  to  strive  earnestly.  The  very  first  step  to 
be  taken  is  rejpentance^  and  that  involves  not  merely 
sorrow  for  your  sins,  but  utter  abandonment  of  them. 
For  years,  it  may  be,  your  conversation  has  been  in  the 
world ;  its  evil  ways  are  familiar  to  you  ;  its  evil  habits 
have  been  superadded  to  your  native  corruption.  It 
mil  not  be  an  easy  task  to  unravel  the  sinful  web  you 
have  been  weaving  so  long ;  in  your  own  strength,  in- 
deed, it  is  an  impossible  one.  "  Can  the  Ethiopian 
change  his  skin,  and  the  leopard  his  spots  ?  Tlien  may 
ye  also  do  good  that  are  accustomed  to  do  evil."    The 


282  THE   NEW   YORK   PULPIT. 

enemy  lias  entrenclied  himself  in  the  very  citadel  of  your 
heart ;  it  will  take  earnest  fighting  and  prayer  to  dis- 
lodge him. 

Then  you  will  find  sacrifices  necessary  at  the  begin- 
ning, and,  thereafter,  in  every  step  of  the  way.  "If 
any  man  will  come  after  me,"  says  our  blessed  Lord, 
"  let  him  deny  himself,  and  take  up  his  cross  daily,  and 
follow  me."  The  flesh  is  to  be  crucified,  with  its  affec- 
tions and  lusts ;  and,  depend  upon  it,  the  flesh  will  cry 
out  under  the  infliction.  There  must  be  a  death  unto 
sin,  before  there  can  be  a  life  unto  righteousness  ;  and 
the  throes  of  the  soul  in  its  se23aration  from  sin  are  like 
the  pangs  that  attend  the  dissolution  of  soul  and  body. 
True,  in  escaping  from  sin,  the  soul  breaks  its  chains 
and  slips  away  from  a  disgraceful  and  destroying  bond- 
age ;  but  yet,  it  is  a  slavery  which  the  unregenerate 
soul  delights  in  ;  it  hugs  its  fetters  lovingly. 

Again,  you  will  find  earnest  strife  necessary  in  break- 
ing away  from  sinful  company  and  associations.  The 
gate  itself  is  "  strait,"  but  you  will  find  the  difliculty  in- 
creased by  the  crowd  standing  always  about  it,  and  urg- 
ing you  not  to  go  in.  Many  of  them  are  your  friends — 
some,  perhaps,  your  kindred ;  your  own  flesh  and  blood 
may  stand  in  the  way  to  hinder  you.  At  all  events,  the 
mass  of  mankind  is  going  the  other  way ;  and  oh  !  how 
easy  it  is  to  go  with  the  crowd  !  If  you  are  bent  upon 
separating  from  them,  and  on  going  the  safer  way,  with 
better  company,  though  fewer,  make  up  your  mind  to 
strive.  The  world  will  not  let  you  escape  without  a 
struggle.  Every  weapon  will  be  tried  ;  flattery,  seduc- 
tion, threats,  sneers — you  will  certainly  meet  some  of 
these  ;  perhaps  you  may  meet  them  all.  Ah  !  you  will 
need  to  be  ifi  earnest^  in  order  to  press  your  way  on, 
against  the  points  of  all  these  spears. 

But,  perhaps,  you  have  formed  no  bad  associations. 


THE   STKAIT  GATE.  283 

You  have  been  brought  up  in  a  Christian  household,  and 
environed,  from  childhood,  by  blessed  influences.  In- 
stead of  hindering  you  in  the  Christian  life,  all  at  home 
will  help  you.  If  so,  thank  God  for  your  happy  lot.  A 
Christian  education  is  one  of  the  richest  blessings  that 
can  befall  a  child.  But  do  not  fancy  that  because  you 
have  enjoyed  it,  you  shall  be  able  to  get  in  at  the 
"strait"  gate  without  earnest  effort.  The  adversary  of 
men  knows  how  to  prepare  special  baits  for  just  such 
souls  as  yours.  With  his  native  craft  sharpened  by  ages 
of  experience,  he  lies  in  wait  for  you ;  to  lull  your  fears ; 
to  hinder  your  believing ;  to  stupefy  your  conscience  ; 
to  inject  evil  thoughts  into  your  heart.  He  will,  if  pos- 
sible, make  you  appear  pure  in  your  own  eyes,  though 
yet  unwashed  from  your  fllthiness;  make  you  fancy 
yourself  "  rich  and  increased  in  goods,"  while  you  are 
yet  "  wretched,  and  miserable,  and  poor,  and  blind,  and 
naked."  Do  not  dream,  then,  with  such  an  enemy,  so 
subtle  and  so  skillful,  always  tracking  your  path,  that 
you  shall  be  able  to  "  enter  in  at  the  strait  gate  "  with- 
out earnest  strife. 

Do  I  say  all  this  to  discourage  you  ?  'Naj,  but  to 
warn  and  stimulate  you.  I  dare  not  deceive  you.  Easy 
as  Christ's  yoke  is,  it  is  still  a  "yoke"  for  the  unregene- 
rate  soul.  But,  after  all,  it  is  the  price  of  the  only  true 
rest.  It  is  good  for  you  to  bear  this  yoke ;  nay,  it  is 
essential  to  true  freedom.  Were  I  to  describe  the  way 
of  holiness  as  smooth  and  easy  from  the  beginning,  you 
would  soon  come  back  to  me  with  bitter  reproaches,  and 
tell  of  the  lions  you  had  encountered.  What  then  ? 
Do  you  find  it  hard  to  repent  ?  ]S"evertheless,  "  strive 
to  enter  in."  Do  you  find  it  hard  to  believe  ?  Still  cry, 
"  Lord  I  believe,  help  thou  mine  unbelief,"  and  "  strive 
to  enter  in."  Have  you  been  seeking  Christ  for  many 
days  without  obtaining  light  or  comfort  ?    Depend  upon 


284:  THE   NEW   YORK    rULPIT. 

it,  you  are  still,  consciously  or  unconsciously,  clierisliing 
some  sin,  preserving  some  idol,  clinging  to  your  self- 
righteousness,  or  keejDing  up  your  imHelief.  Strive 
earnestly  to  "  lay  aside  every  weight  and  the  sin  that  doth 
so  easily  beset  you."  Let  not  the  devil  tempt  you  to 
give  up  the  pursuit ;  you  are  safe  while  striving ;  but 
give  up  the  effort,  and  your  immortal  soul  is  imperilled. 

Thus  far,  I  have  spoken  only  of  the  difficulties  that 
beset  the  beginning  of  the  Christian  life ;  but  in  its 
continuance  you  will  find  them  still.  It  will  require  the 
same  earnest  endeavor  to  keep  your  hold  upon  Christ 
as  to  secure  it.  Many  err  here,  believing  that  when 
the  soul  is  once  converted  the  work  is  done.  Yain 
dream !  the  Christian  life  is  a  warfare,  from  the  begin- 
ning to  the  end.  It  is  quite  possible  to  "  run  well  for 
a  season,"  and  then  to  drop  by  the  ^tayside,  or  to  turn 
off  into  one  of  the  by-paths  which  the  devil  keeps 
always  open,  with  flowery  entrances  and  attractive 
fingerboards,  to  seduce  the  unwary.  Your  faith  will 
not  go  untried,  even  after  God  has  accepted  you  in 
Christ.  He  will  uphold  you  in  every  trial,  if  you  keep 
your  fidelity ;  but  you  will  find  it  necessary  at  every 
step  to  watch  and  pray,  to  fear  and  to  struggle.  You 
will  be  tried  by  all  the  old  seductions  that  formerly 
prevailed  with  you,  and  by  all  the  new  allurements  that 
the  ingenuity  of  the  adversary  can  invent.  You  will 
find  "fightings  without  and  fears  within,"  all  calling 
for  intense  and  continued  earnestness  in  this  spiritual 
strife. 

"But  is  it  God's  object  to  drive  us  out  of  the  way?" 
Nay,  but  "  he  will  put  strength  in  you,"  if  you  are 
faithful.  Christ  said  to  Peter,  "  Satan  hath  desired  to 
have  thee,  that  he  might  sift  thee  as  wheat;  but  I 
have  prayed  for  thee,  that  thy  faith  fail  not."  The 
object  of  all  trial  is  your  final  glorification, — "that  the 


THE    STB  AIT   GATE.  285 

trial  of  your  faith  being  much  more  precious  than  gold 
which  perisheth,  though  it  be  tried  with  fire,  may  be 
found  unto  praise  and  honor  and  glory  at  the  appearing 
of  Jesus  Christ."  There  is  no  hint  in  Scripture  of  the 
possibility  of  final  failure  in  the  case  of  any  who  "  fight 
the  good  fight  of  faith  "  to  the  end ;  but  the  Bible  is  full  of 
Avarnings  against  security,  against  forgetfulness,  against 
ceasing  to  strive  earnestly.  'No  matter  what  stage  of 
Christian  experience  you  may  be  permitted  to  reach, 
you  shall  never,  on  this  side  of  the  dark  river,  be  beyond 
the  duty  of  bearing  arms  and  using  them  in  the  fight ; 
you  shall  never  reach  the  point  in  which  you  ought  not 
every  day  to  say : 

My  soul,  be  on  thy  guard, 

Ten  thousand  foes  arise, 
The  hosts  of  sin  are  pressing  hard, 

To  draw  thee  from  the  skies. 

Oh,  watch,  and  fight  and  pray, 

The  battle  ne'er  give  o'er  ; 
Renew  it  boldly  every  day 

And  help  divine  implore. 

But,  at  the  same  time,  remember  there  is  no  feai'  so 
long  as  you  continue  earnest  and  striving. 

Surrounded  by  a  host  of  foes, 

Stormed  by  a  host  within, 
Nor  swift  to  flee,  nor  strong  to  oppose. 

Single  against  hell,  earth  and  sin — 
Single,  yet  undismayed  I  am, 

I  dare  beUeve  in  Jesus'  name. 

III.  The  necessity  of  earnestness  is  further  enforced 
by  Christ  in  the  text,  in  the  fearful  declaration,  ''  Many 
shall  seek  to  enter  in  and  shall  not  be  able."  It  is 
fearful,  indeed ;  but  do  not  pervert  it,  and  so  make  it 
more  fearful  than  it  is.     Christ  does  not  say  that  any 


286  THE   NEW   YORK    PULPIT. 

who  really  strive  to  enter  in  shall  fail.  There  is  no 
such  case  on  record  in  tlie  Bible,  or  in  the  history  of 
Christ's  kingdom  on  earth.  No  prodigal  ever  repented 
and  returned  to  the  house  of  onr  Father  without  receiv- 
ius:  a  welcome.  But  Christ  does  refer  to  those  who, 
having  neglected  to  enter  in  at  the  strait  gate,  seek 
some  other  mode  of  entrance.  He  does  refer  to  those 
who,  having  failed  to  go  in  when  the  door  was  open, 
shall  come  to  it  with  vain  pleas  for  mercy,  after  it  is 
shut  and  barred  for  evermore. 

Here  a  third  figure  is  introduced — that  of  the  mar- 
riage supper  ;  a  figure  so  often  used  that  it  has  become 
part  of  the  Christian  thought  itself:  "Let  us  be  glad 
and  rejoice,  and  give  honor  to  him :  for  the  marriage 
of  the  Lamb  is  come,  and  his  wife  hath  niade  herself 
ready.  And  to  her  was  granted  that  she  should  be 
arrayed  in  fine  linen,  clean  and  white :  for  the  fine 
linen  is  the  righteousness  of  saints.  And  he  saith  unto 
me.  Write,  Blessed  a/re  they  which  are  called  unto  the 
marriage-supper  of  the  Lamb." 

The  master  waits  to  receive  his  guests  until  they  are 
assembled ;  then  he  rises  and  shuts  the  door.  None  can 
be  admitted  afterward.  The  day  of  grace  is  over — ^the 
day  of  judgment  is  begun.  K  you  have  failed,  during 
the  allotted  time,  to  secure  the  wedding-garment,  you 
will  find  no  substitute  for  it  then.  K  you  have  never 
"striven  to  enter  in  at  the  strait  gate"  while  it  was 
open,  and  the  master's  servants  w^ere  inviting  and 
urging  you  to  come  in,  you  shall  seek  admittance  in 
vain  when  the  door  is  shut. 

Be  in  earnest,  then,  while  the  time  of  mercy  lasts. 
Strive,  while  strife  will  avail.  How  soon  the  door  will 
l.)e  shut  against  you  no  man  knows.  You  are  alive  and 
within  the  reach  of  mercy  to-day ;  to-morrow  you  may 
be  dead,  and  "  there  is  no  discharge  in  that  war."    Put 


THE   STRAIT   GATE.  287 

your  hand  at  once  to  the  work  of  saving  your  soul,  and 
"  do  it  with  thy  might ;  for  there  is  no  work  nor  device, 
nor  knowledge,  nor  wisdom,  in  the  grave,  whither  thou 
goest."  If  you  sow  not  in  the  spring,  no  labor  will 
avail  in  the  harvest.  "  Are  there  not  twelve  hours  in 
the  day?"  Use  them  wisely  for  your  soul's  salvation  ; 
for  the  hours  of  darkness  will  surely  follow. 

And  now,  choose  at  which  gate  you  will  enter.  The 
broad  way  is  apparently  easy  and  plain ;  it  is  crowded 
with  travellers.  Men  of  all  classes  are  walking  in  it, 
seemingly  happy  and  unconcerned,  except  to  gather  all 
the  fruits  and  flowers  that  hang  so  temptingly  by  the 
wayside.  The  great  men  of  the  world  are  there ;  sol- 
diers whose  name  fills  the  ear  of  nations ;  statesmen 
accustomed  to  deal  with  the  destinies  of  empires  ;  scho- 
lars that  have  widened  the  limits  of  human  knowledge 
and  wrung  nature's  closest  secrets  from  her  grasp  of 
ages  ;  poets  whose  creations  of  beauty  shall  be  a  joy  to 
mankind  for  ever ;  artists  that  have  caught  the  trick  of 
nature ;  all  these  you  may  find  in  that  way.  Strong 
men  and  beautiful  women  are  treading  it  with  mirth 
and  gladness,  with  joys  and  banquetings,  "  and  the  harp 
and  the  viol,  the  tabret,  and  pipe,  and  wine  are  in  their 
feasts."  But  yet,  their  way  leads  to  death.  They  "  re- 
gard not  the  work  of  the  Lord,  neither  consider  the 
operation  of  his  hands ;"  and  so  "  their  glory,  and  their 
multitude,  and  their  pomp  shall  descend  into  hell." 

Go  not  in  the  way  with  them.  The  gate  of  life  stands 
open  ;  and,  strait  as  it  seems,  it  has  admitted  an  innu- 
merable company,  and  the  church  of  the  first  born^ 
whose  names  are  written  in  heaven.  Christ  stands 
beckoning  you  to  enter;  his  invitation  is  broad  and 
urgent — "Whosoever  will,  let  him  come."  Tlie  way 
looks  difficult,  I  grant ;  nay,  it  is  difficult ;  but  the  diffi- 
culty will  lessen  as  you  advance.     The  crooked  shall  be 


288  THE    NEW    YORK   PULPIT. 

made  straight,  and  tlie  roiigli  places  plain.  The  longer 
you  walk  in  it  the  more  delightful  you  will  find  it.  It 
is  the  "  king's  highway  of  holiness  ;"  a  way  on  which 
the  vulture's  eye  hath  never  gleamed,  on  which  the  lion 
and  the  lion's  whelps  have  never  trodden.  It  is  the 
^vay  in  which  "  the  ransomed  of  the  Lord  shall  return 
and  come  to  Zion,  with  songs  and  everlasting  joy  upon 
their  heads."  Enter  in  at  the  strait  gate ;  walk  in  this 
narrow  path,  and  it  will  end  infallibly  in  glory,  and 
honor,  and  immortality,  and  eternal  life.  Christ,  the 
Lord,  will  be  your  companion  and  friend  on  the  way, 
and  at  the  end  of  it  will  crown  you  with  everlasting  joy. 


XX. 

MAN'S   PERDITION   NOT   OF   GOD. 

BY  EDWIN  F.  HATFIELD,  D.D. 

Pastor  of  the  N'orth  Presbyterian  CJmrch. 

Hare  I  any  pleasure  at  all  that  the  wicked  should  die  ?  saith  the  Lord 
God. — EzEK.  xviii.  23. 

That  men  die,  everywhere,  always,  no  one  questions 
for  a  moment.  Deatli  is  a  fixed  fact.  It  cannot  be 
escaped.  Sooner  or  later  it  must  pass  upon  all,  "  for 
that  all  have  sinned."  Not  all  the  earnest  and  anxious 
care  of  the  fondest  friends ;  not  all  the  skill  and  atten- 
tion of  the  ablest  physicians ;  not  the  most  sober,  pru- 
dent, and  judicious  course  of  conduct ;  nor  even  the 
most  exalted  piety,  can  shield  us  from  the  assaults  of 
death.  "  All  things  come  alike  to  all ;  there  is  one 
event  to  the  righteous,  and  to  the  wicked  ;  to  the  g6od 
and  to  the  clean,  and  to  the  unclean  ;  to  him  that  sacri- 
ficeth,  and  to  him  that  sacrificeth  not."  "  One  event 
Cometh  to  them  all." 

The  language  of  the  text,  therefore,  is  not  to  be  under- 
stood of  natural  death.  It  refers  to  a  death  that  may 
be  prevented,  of  a  death  that  affects  not  the  righteous 
but  the  wicked. 

Nor  can  it  be  understood  as  the  mere  absence  of 
spiritual  life.  All  men,  in  their  natural,  unrenewed 
state,  are  re]n*esented  as  already  ''  dead  in  trespasses 
and  sins." 

13  289 


290  THE   NEW    YORK   PULPIT. 

Another  and  far  more  dreadful  death  is  meant.  Un- 
pardoned sin  calls  for  judgment.  The  soul  that  leaves 
the  body,  unreconciled  to  God,  must  be  forever  banished 
from  the  presence  of  God  and  the  abodes  of  the  blessed. 
"  Tlie  wages  of  sin  is  death."  "  The  end  of  those  things 
is  death."  "  There  is  a  sin  unto  death."  This  death  is 
called  "  the  second  death,"  and  is  contrasted  with  eter- 
nal life."  It  is  described  as  "  everlasting  punishment," 
and  is  represented  as  "  the  fire  that  never  shall  be 
quenched." 

It  is  of  this  never-ending  death,  the  appropriate 
"  wages  of  sin,"  that  God  speaks  in  this  appeal  to  Israel. 
This  is  the  penalty  of  the  broken  law — a  penalty  in- 
curred by  every  transgressor,  and  not  to  be  escaped  but 
by  "  repentance  towards  God,  and  faith  tow^ards  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ."  Tliey  who  "  believe  have  passed 
from  death  unto  life."  "  On  such  the  second  death  hath 
no  powder."  All  else  are  yet  in  their  sins,  under  the 
curse,  and  in  danger  of  endless  death. 

To  wdiich  of  these  two  classes  do  you  that  hear  me 
belong  ?  Do  you  know  ?  Can  you  tell  what  will 
Ijccome  of  you  when  you  leave  the  body  ?  If  to-day 
your  soul  should  be  required  of  you,  are  you  confident  ot 
escaping  the  second  death  ?  Have  you  been  born  again  ? 
'No  1  Then  you  "  cannot  enter  into  the  kingdom  of 
God."  Have  you  been  converted  ?  JSTot  converted  ? 
Then  you  must  perish.  Arc  you  a  true  believer  ? 
Not  yet  ?     "  He  that  belie veth  not  shall  be  damned." 

This,  then,  is  the  great  alternative  set  before  you : 
turn  or  die ;  repent  or  perish ;  believe  or  be  damned. 
It  is  a  fearful  alternative.  You  must  be  delivered  from 
the  guilt  and  the  power  of  sin,  or  be  shut  out  for  ever 
from  the  holy  city.  "  Tliere  shall  in  no  wise  enter  into 
it  anything  that  defileth,  neither  w^hatsoever  worketh 
abomination." 


man's  perdition  not  of  god.  291 

You  are  conscious,  many  of  you,  of  no  such  conver- 
sion. Your  sins  have  been  multiplying  until  now.  You 
have  been  going  on  in  a  continual  course  of  disobe- 
dience, impenitence,  and  unbelief,  to  this  hour ;  treas- 
uring up  "  wrath  against  the  day  of  wrath."  From 
your  childhood,  you  have  been  hardening  your  heart 
against  God,  your  Maker.  You  have  been  admonished, 
entreated,  and  warned,  again  and  again.  But  you  con- 
tinue to  press  on.  You  have  been  instructed  carefully, 
faithfully,  and  constantly,  in  respect  both  to  the  way  of 
salvation,  and  to  the  consequences  of  unbelief.  Yet 
you  turn  not,  tremble  not,  fear  not.  Onward  you  go, 
neglecting  the  great  salvation,  and  heeding  not  tile 
voice  that  calls  you  to  the  skies. 

In  many  cases,  doubtless,  this  apparent  indifference 
is  to  be  attributed  to  a  secret  unbelief.  You  do  not 
credit  the  declarations  of  infinite  love.  You  persuade 
yourself,  that  the  fault  is  not  wholly  your  own.  You 
seek  to  cast  it  off — either  wholly  or  in  part.  You  can- 
not believe,  that  the  difiiculty  is  entirely  with  yourself 

You  are  disposed  either  to  justify  or  to  excuse  your 
long-continued  course  of  transgression,  by  a  reference 
to  your  circumstances.  You  cannot  be  persuaded,  that 
God  himself  has  not  something  to  do  with  it.  "  The 
woman  whom  thou  gavest  to  be  with  me,"  said  Adam, 
"  she  gave  me  of  the  tree  and  I  did  eat."  "  The  fathers 
have  eaten  sour  grapes,"  said  Israel,  "  and  the  children's 
teeth  are  set  on  edge."  "  We  are  delivered  to  do  all 
these  abominations."  "  If  our  transgressions  and  our 
sins  be  upon  us,  and  we  pine  away  in  them,  how  should 
we  then  live  ?" 

"  It  is  not  my  fault,"  you  say,  "  not  at  all,  that  I  am 
not  a  Christian.  I  have  long  thought,  that  it  would  be 
a  good  thing  to  be  one  of  God's  people.  I  have  been, 
these  many  years,  wishing  and  hoping  that  I  might 


292  THE   NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

some  day  be  converted  and  be  prepared  for  death.  But 
liow  can  I  change  my  own  heart?  That  is  not  my  work. 
It  is  God's.  I  must  wait  his  time.  If  God  does  not 
give  me  his  spirit,  how  am  I  to  blame  ?"  Thus  you 
speak,  at  least  in  your  hearts.  You  would  have  us 
believe,  that  you  are  quite  willing  to  be  saved,  to  become 
a  penitent  believer  in  Christ,  but  that  God  does  not  see 
fit  to  save  you.  You  intimate  that  you  are  ready,  but 
your  Maker  not ;  that  you  have  no  j^leasure  in  your 
death,  but  that  God  has — that  he  alone,  or  chiefly,  is  to 
blame  for  it. 

Stand  to  it  if  you  can.  Be  honest,  frank,  candid.  If 
the  thought  is  in  your  heart,  bring  it  out.  Avow  it 
openly,  manfully.  If  you  are  not  to  blame,  God  is.  If 
you  are  to  blame  only  in  part,  then  the  fault  is,  in  part, 
God's.  Either  you  or  God  must  bear  the  responsibility. 
Yovi  disclaim  it.  You  cast  it,  therefore,  upon  your 
Maker.  Shrink  not  from  the  consequences  of  your  own 
theory.  If  you  are  ready  to  take  all  the  blame  to  your- 
self, to  acquit  God  wholly,  it  is  well.  Admit  it  fairly 
and  fully.  Do  not  even  insinuate,  that  God  has  anything 
whatever  to  do  with  it.  Confess  it,  and  '^  prepare  to 
meet  thy  God."     But  if  otherwise,  say  so. 

What,  now,  is  the  imputation  ?  You  say,  or  you  inti- 
mate, that  the  sole  cause,  or  the  chief  cause,  of  your 
continuing  in  sin,  impenitence,  and  unbelief,  is,  that 
God  is  not  willing,  is  not  ready,  to  save  you  from  your 
sins,  and  to  bring  you  into  the  household  of  faith  ;  that 
you  must  w^ait  God's  time  ;  that  it  is  by  no  means  clear, 
that  he  is  willing  to  save  you  at  all,  and  that,  therefore, 
dreadful  as  is  the  thought,  you  must  perish  hopelessly, 
endlessly.  And  all  this,  because  God  has  pleasure  in 
your  death.  This  is  what  you  say,  what  you  think. 
We  have  probed  the  heart ;  we  have  found  the  sore. 

But  what  is  this  that  comes  to  us  from  the  throne  ? 


293 

It  is  tlie  voice  of  your  God.  It  is  the  language  of 
amazement :  "  Have  I  any  pleasure  at  all  that  the 
wicked  should  die  ?  saith  the  Lord."  Is  it  my  pleasure, 
my  preference,  my  delight  ?  Have  I  any  pleasure  in 
it,  even  on  the  whole  ?  Have  I  any  pleasure  at  all — the 
least  particle  of  pleasure  ?  It  is  the  language  of  intense 
emotion,  of  holy  indignation  ;  expressive,  most  fully,  of 
the  falseness,  the  baseness  of  the  imputation.  It  is  a 
direct  appeal  to  the  sinner  himself.  It  challenges  him 
to  make  out  his  case — to  bring  forward  the  proof,  in 
whole  or  in  part,  and  to  show  the  complicity  of  the 
Almighty  in  the  matter.  He  reasons  with  the  sinner  as 
with  his  fellow ;  appeals  to  the  principles  of  his  govern- 
ment, the  equity  of  his  administration,  and  the  whole 
history  of  his  dealings  with  Israel ;  and  then,  having 
exonerated  himself  fully,  he  calls  upon  his  guilty  sub- 
jects to  acknowledge,  that  the  fault  is  all  their  own. 
"  Eepent,  and  turn  yourselves  from  all  your  transgres- 
sions ;  so  iniquity  shall  not  be  your  ruin.  Cast  away 
from  you  all  your  transgressions,  whereby  ye  have 
transgressed ;  and  make  you  a  new  heart  and  a  new 
spirit ;  for  why  will  ye  die,  O  house  of  Israel  ?  For  J 
have  no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  him  that  dieth,  saith 
the  Lord  God."  He  himself  gives  the  answer  to  his 
own  appeal.  He  puts  in  an  absolute  disclaimer  of  the 
whole  charge. 

Nay,  more,  as  if  this  were  not  enough,  he  pats  himseli 
under  oath ;  and,  "  because  he  could  swear  by  no 
greater,  he  sware  by  himself,"  saying :  "  As  I  live,  saith 
the  Lord  God,  I  have  no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  the 
wicked."  What  would  you,  what  could  you,  more? 
You  will  not  charge  him  with  equivocation  ;  much  less 
with  willful  falsehood,  with  perjury  !  Satan  himself  can 
do  no  more.  Strange  that  God  cannot  be  taken  at  his 
word — that  you  can  believe  any  one  sooner  than  God ! 


^94  THE   NEW    YORK    PULriT. 

Still  you  cling  to  the  tlionght,  and  try  to  persuade 
yourself,  that  God  has  all  to  do  with  your  present  im- 
penitency.  You  will  have  it,  that  he  has  some  pleasure 
iu  it,  or  it  would  not  be.  llow  do  you  come  hy  this 
knowledge  ?  Can  you  look  into  the  heart  of  the  Omni- 
scient ?  "  Canst  thou  by  searching  find  out  God  ?  Canst 
thou  find  out  the  Almighty  unto  perfection  ?"  Who  art 
thou,  that  thou  shouldst  sit  in  judgment  on  the  Infinite, 
the  Incomprehensible,  the  Eternal?  Proud  worm  of 
the  dust!  be  ashamed  of  thine  arrogance,  and  sink  into 
thine  own  nothingness. 

You  forget,  that  "  God  is  not  a  man  that  he  should 
lie;  neither  the  son  of  man  that  he  should  repent." 
You  are  wont  to  transfer  to  your  Maker  your  own 
thoughts  and  ways.  "  Thou  thoughtest  that  I  was  alto- 
getlier  such  an  one  as  thyself."  But  "  my  thoughts  are 
not  your  thoughts,  neither  are  your  ways  my  ways,  saith 
the  Lord."  What  a  disparagement  of  Infinite  Purity  to 
suppose,  for  a  moment,  that  the  Holy  One  of  Israel 
can  be  judged  of  by  the  corrupt  heart  of  a  sinful  worm  ? 

The  appeal  is  not  to  be  made  in  this,  or  any  similar 
case,  to  the  preconceived  opinions  of  him  that  has  cut 
himself  loose  from  God,  and  seeks  to  justify  himself  in 
his  sins.  God  is  known  in  his  works,  and  in  his  word. 
By  these  you  may  learn  what  he  is,  and  in  what  he  takes 
pleasure.     Look,  then,  at — 

I.  The  works  of  the  Almighty. 

You  b've  in  the  midst  of  the  unnumbered  works  of 
tlie  Creator,  yourself  the  workmanship  of  his  fingers. 
What  are  the  characteristics  of  these  glorious  works  of 
tlie  Eternar  Father?  Order,  harmony,  beauty,  great- 
ness, goodness,  love.  All  these  are  clearly  seen.  No- 
where do  you  find  a  particle  of  proof,  that  the  wretched- 
ness of  the  creature  gives  pleasure  to  the  Creator.     All 


man's  terdition  not  of  god.  295 

nature,  as  well  as  the  Bible,  teaclies  that  "  God  is  love." 
He  has  fitted  up  the  universe  to  be  the  abode  of  blessed- 
ness. He  has  framed  our  own  natures  for  the  sweetest, 
purest,  richest  enjoyments — every  sense  to  be  a  vehicle 
of  pleasure,  and  not  of  pain.  How  easy  it  would  have 
been  for  him,  to  have  made  each  one  of  our  senses  an 
organ  of  the  most  intense  suffering,  of  anguish  unspeak- 
able !  Look  at  your  own  physical  constitution ;  study 
it,  if  you  please,  in  the  various  aspects  in  which  Dr. 
Paley  exhibits  it  in  his  Il^atural  Theology ;  and  you 
cannot  but  see  that  your  Maker's  appeal  in  the  text  is 
fully  sustained. 

Passing  from  the  works  of  creation,  look  next  at  his 
works  of  Providence.  How  kind,  how  good,  how  gra- 
cious the  operations  of  his  hand !  Even  in  the  days  of 
grossest  darkness,  "  he  left  not  himself  without  witness 
in  that  he  did  good,  and  gave  us  rain  from  heaven,  and 
fruitful  seasons,  filling  our  hearts  with  food  and  glad- 
ness." "  He  maketh  his  sun  to  rise  on  the  evil  and 
on  the  good,  and  sendeth  rain  on  the  just  and  on  the 
unjust."  The  whole  earth  is  full  of  his  goodness.  You 
have  only  to  call  to  mind  his  providential  dealings  with 
yourself,  from  your  very  birth,  through  your  infancy, 
childhood,  youth,  and  riper  years,  to  be  convinced  of  his 
loving-kindness.  How  various  have  been  his  mercies, 
his  bounties!  how  timely,  how  appropriate,  how  un- 
merited, how  lavishly  bestowed,  how  infinite  !  When 
has  he  ceased  to  shower  down  upon  you  the  blessings 
of  his  goodness  ?  When,  to  load  you  daily  with  his 
benefits  ?  "  They  are  new  every  morning."  "  If  I 
should  count  them  they  are  more  in  number  than  the 
sand." 

"  When  all  thy  mercies,  0  my  God  ! 
My  rising  soul  surveys, 
Transported  with  the  view,  I  'm  lost 
In  wonder,  love,  and  praise." 


296  THE    NEW   YORK    PULPIT. 

Enumerate  liis  acts  of  goodness  to  your  sinful  soul  for 
but  a  single  day,  and  mullij^ly  these  by  the  days  of  your 
mortal  life.  Cast  up  the  mighty  sum  and  tell  me, 
what  fond  and  doting  parent  would,  if  able,  have  done 
as  much  ?  K'ot  all  that  man  could  say  or  do  would  con- 
vince you  that  a  fellow-being,  from  whom  you  had 
received  a  thousandth  part  of  what  you  have  received 
from  God,  was  your  greatest  foe  ;  was  not  your  best 
friend,  and  was  not  most  delighted  when  most  you  were 
freed  from  pain,  and  filled  with  pleasure.  How  you 
would  resent  the  vile  insinuation  !  And  why  will  you 
suffer  it  in  the  case  of  your  Maker  ?     Why  cherish  it  ? 

True,  you  are  not  free  from  pain,  from  sorrow,  from 
trouble.  In  a  w^orld  of  sin,  yourself  a  sinner,  Avhat  else 
is  to  be  expected  ?  You  have  your  troubles ;  but  have 
they,  in  number,  or  in  aggravations,  kept  pace  with 
your  sins?  God  has  borne  much  from  you,  and  borne 
long.  Would  a  creature  have  borne  it  ?  Would  you 
yourself,  from  another  ?  Yet  he  bears  with,  he  blesses, 
you  still.  Your  provocations  have  been  as  innumerable 
as  your  mercies,  and  yet  have  not  wearied  out  his  love, 
have  not  driven  him  away,  have  not  diminished  the  flow- 
ing tide  of  liis  goodness  and  grace.  When  has  he  ceased 
to  render  you  good  for  evil  ?  Had  he  treated  you  as  you 
have  treated  him,  w^hat  would  be  your  condition,  your 
prospects,  now  ?  "  He  hath  not  dealt  with  us  after  our 
sins,  nor  rewarded  us  according  to  our  iniquities."  How 
have  you  forgotten  God ;  banished  him  from  your 
thoughts ;  given  place  to  the  most  base  intruders,  the 
most  shameful  usurpers!  How  have  you  disregarded 
his  authority,  slighted  his  admonitions,  broken  away 
from  his  kind  embrace,  cast  away  the  cords  of  his  love, 
and  refused  obedience  to  his  most  reasonable  commands. 
How  long  have  you  been  pursuing  the  broad  and  beaten 
path  of  folly,  listening  to  the  faintest  w^hisper  of  sensual 


297 

love,  and  closing  your  ears  against  the  loudest  remons- 
trances of  love  divine  !  "  Who  is  the  Lord,  that  I  should 
obey  his  voice  ?"  has  been  your  language ;  "  I  desire 
not  the  knowledge  of  his  ways."  Never,  even  to  this 
hour,  have  you,  in  a  single  instance,  obeyed  from  the 
heart  one  of  his  holy  commandments,  or  yielded  to  any 
of  his  gracious  demands  upon  your  time,  your  strength, 
your  mind,  your  heart.  Day  after  day,  all  your  life 
long,  he  has  been  seeking  a  place  in  your  heart,  but  in 
vain.  He  has  tried  every  fond  endearment,  and  sought 
by  the  very  lavishness  of  his  love,  to  woo  and  win  you 
to  himself. 

"What  unspeakable  grace  !  And  yet  you  are  trying, 
notwithstanding  "  the  earth  is  full  of  the  goodness  of  the 
Lord,"  and  your  whole  life  of  his  love,  to  persuade 
yourself,  that  God  has  no  purpose  of  mercy  respecting 
you ;  that  he  is  not  willing  to  save  you  from  your  sins ; 
that  he  actually  takes  pleasure  in  denying  you  a  place 
among  the  subjects  of  his  grace,  a  share  in  his  pardon- 
ing love,  a  seat  in  his  heavenly  kingdom !  Be  ashamed, 
and  blush  to  your  very  heart's  core,  even  to  insinuate, 
though  but  for  a  moment,  that  your  Maker  has  any 
other  than  thoughts  of  love  towards  you — that  he  has 
any  pleasure  at  all  in  your  death. 

But  why  so  much  suffering  in  the  w^orld,  you  ask,  if 
God  has  no  pleasure  in  it  ?  Enough  to  know  that  sin 
has  caused  it  all.  It  is  the  work  of  the  enemy — not 
God's.  Nor  is  it  pleasing  to  him.  Sin  is  the  object  of 
his  most  intense  hatred.  He  loathes  it,  abominates  it, 
and  wages  against  it  an  exterminating  warfare.  It  came 
into  the  creation  in  op]30sition  to  his  exj)ressed  will,  has 
spread  and  perpetuated  itself  in  direct  opposition  to  his 
most  solemn  protests,  and  is  doomed  to  sutler  his  eternal 
displeasure.  From  its  first  aj^pearance  until  now,  he 
has  been»  with  all  the  might  of  his  infinite  majesty, 

-ig  • 


298  THE   NEW   YORK    PULPIT. 

lioliness,  goodness,  and  truth,  working  witli  uncompro- 
mising hostility  for  its  extermination.  Does  this  look 
as  if  God  had  any  pleasure  at  all  in  your  death  ? 

All  the  evils  ot  this  present  state  are  clearly  traceable 
to  the  prevalence  of  sin — can  be  traced  to  nothing  else. 
Sin  is  the  parent — the  prolific  parent — of  all  the  sufter- 
inirs  of  God's  creatures.  But  sin  is  not  his  work.  It  is 
the  creature's.  What  is  sin  ?  A  transgression  of  God's 
law — the  law  written  on  the  heart,  or  on  the  pages  of 
inspiration.  That  law  expresses  the  pleasure  of  the 
Almighty.  Every  transgression  of  that  law  must  be 
displeasing  to  him.  He  can  have  no  pleasure  in  it  at 
all.  But  the  death  of  the  wicked  implies  an  everlasting 
continuance  in  the  transgression  of  the  law  of  God,  the 
entire  absence  of  holiness,  and  the  perpetuated  deprav- 
ity of  the  soul.  It  is  impossible,  therefore,  in  the  very 
nature  of  things,  that  God  should  have  any  pleasure  at 
all  in  the  death  of  the  wicked.  Sin  is  in  the  world,  but 
not  because  God  delights  in  it.  None  but  a  subject  of 
the  law  can  be  a  transgressor  of  the  law,  can  be  an 
author  of  sin.  None  but  a  sinner,  then,  can  be  the 
author  of  sin.  God  bears  with  it,  and  bears  long ;  but 
he  cannot  have  even  the  slightest  sympathy  with  it. 
"Why  he  suffers  it,  and  so  long,  eternity  will  reveal. 
"  God  is  his  own  interpreter." 

In  the  works  of  the  Almighty  you  find  not  a  particle 
of  proof,  not  the  shadow  of  an  intimation,  that  God  is  to 
blame  for  your  continuing  in  sin  ;  but  everything  to  the 
contrary.     Look  now  at 

II.  The  Word  of  God. 

It  is  but  as  "  through  a  glass  darkly"  that  we  can  see 
God,  in  his  works  of  creation  and  of  providence.  Other 
works  of  liis  all-gracious  hand,  as  well  as  brighter  mani- 
fi3stations  of  his  bemg,   nature,   and  perfections,    are 


GOD.  299 

brouglit  to  view  in  his  Holy  Word.  We  are  not  left  to 
spell  his  name  by  the  twinkling  stars.  ''  God,  who,  at 
sundry  times  and  in  divers  manners,  spake  in  time  past 
unto  the  fathers  by  the  prophets,  hath  in  these  last  days 
spoken  unto  us  by  his  Son."  The  Scriptures  of  the  Old 
and  New  Testament  are  the  word  of  God. 

What  kind  of  a  God  do  these  Scriptures  reveal  to  us  ? 
Not  a  Baal,  nor  a  Beelzebub ;  nor  yet  a  Bel,  or  a 
Moloch ;  a  Dagon,  or  a  Yulcan  ;  a  Jupiter,  or  a  Mars ; 
a  Brahma,  or  a  Yishnu.  The  God  of  Israel  is  like  to 
none  of  these.  He  is  a  God  of  spotless  purity,  infinite 
holiness,  eternal  truth,  perfect  goodness,  boundless  com- 
passion— a  God  of  love.  It  is  not  here  and  there  only, 
in  detached  passages,  that  these  representations  are 
made.  Tlie  book  is  fuU  of  them.  They  are  the  web, 
the  warp,  and  the  woof  of  inspiration.  The  precepts 
and  the  promises ;  the  law  and  the  gospel ;  the  doctrine 
and  the  history  ;  every  part  and  parcel  speak  the  same 
thing.  The  narrative  is  but  a  running  commentary 
upon  the  character  of  God  as  therein  revealed ;  a  conti- 
nued illustration  from  daily  life;  a  development,  for 
thousands  of  years,  of  these  gracious  and  glorious  char- 
acteristics of  the  God  of  the  Bible,  confirming  the 
revelation,  and  showing  that  he  is  "  the  same  yesterday, 
to-day,  and  forever." 

Who,  now,  could  gather  from  these  exhibitions  that 
this  great  and  glorious  God  ever  had,  or  could  possibly 
have,  the  least  pleasure  in  sin,  or  in  the  sufiering  conse- 
quent upon  sin  ?  in  the  crimes  of  the  human  family,  or 
in  the  perdition  in  which  those  crimes  involve  them  ? 
In  every  portion,  on  every  page,  is  he  not  presented  in 
a  character  directly  the  reverse  ?  Does  he  not  appear, 
everywhere  and  always,  protesting  against  sin  in  all  its 
forms,  and  even  against  the  very  "  appearance  of  evil  ?" 
Do  we  not  hear  him  constantly  remonsti*ating  with  the 


300  THE   NEW   YORK   PULPIT. 

sinner;  warning  him  against  the  inevitable  and  fatal 
consequences  of  final  impenitency  ;  nrging  and  entreat- 
ing tlie  cliildren  of  men  to  abandon  the  ways  of  sin  ; 
beseeching  them  to  pursue  only  the  paths  of  truth  and 
virtue ;  presenting  every  kind  of  inducement,  and 
using  all  possible  influences,  to  restrain  them  from  trans- 
gression, and  to  reclaim  them  from  their  wanderings  ? 
What  more  could  infinite  love  itself  do  than  the  God  of 
the  Bible  does  ? 

But  you  reply,  perhaps,  that  the  Scriptures  abound 
also  in  words  of  condemnation,  denunciation,  ''  indigna- 
tion and  wrath,"  against  the  wicked.  Yes,  it  is  even  so  ; 
and  well  for  us  that  it  is.  If  "the  wages  of  sin  is 
death,"  it  is  mercy  and  love  to  make  it  known.  K 
goodness  does  not  restrain,  let  the  voice  of  justice  be 
heard.  Every  statute  book  in  the  land  is  full  of  penal- 
ties ;  and  the  records  of  every  criminal  court  show  that 
the  penalties  are  a  reality.  But  will  you  argue,  there- 
fore, that  the  framers  of  these  statutes  had  any  pleasure 
at  all  in  prisons  and  scaflTolds ;  in  the  shame  and  disgrace, 
the  sufi'erings  and  the  death,  of  the  criminal  ?  Was  it 
because  he  had  pleasure  in  his  death,  that  Washington 
signed  the  death-warrant  of  Andre?  Even  when  the 
Almighty,  in  like  manner,  is  consigning  his  heritage  to 
desolation,  you  hear  him,  with  all  the  yearnings  of  a 
loving  parent,  exclaim — "How  shall  I  give  thee  up, 
Ephraim  ?  how  shall  I  deliver  thee,  Israel  ?  how  shall  I 
make  thee  as  Admali  ?  how  shall  I  set  thee  as  Zeboim  ?" 

Tlie  God  of  the  Bible,  however,  contents  not  himself 
with  a  mere  verbal  exhibition  of  his  love  for  our  race. 
He  is  not  satisfied  with  a  mere  j)rovidential  development 
of  himself  to  hjs  creatures  on  the  earth.  He  "  whom  no 
man  hath  seen  nor  can  see,"  has  made  himself  visible  to 
mortal  eyes.  The  Invisible  takes  to  himself  a  human 
form,  and  becomes  one  of  us,  so  that  wp  may  "see him 


301 

as  lie  is."  "  God  was  manifest  in  the  flesh,"  "  Tlie 
Word  was  made  flesh,  and  dwelt  among  us  ;  and  wc 
beheld  his  glory,  the  glory  as  of  the  only  begotten  of  the 
Father,  full  of  grace  and  truth.  Jesus,  the  Son  of  Mary, 
was  no  less  the  Son  of  God,  the  impersonation  and 
embodiment  of  the  divine  being  ;  "  for  in  him  dwelleth 
all  the  fullness  of  the  Godhead  bodily."  "  It  pleased  the 
Father,  that  in  him  should  all  fullness  dwell."  He  "  is 
the  image  of  the  invisible  God,"  ''  the  brightness  of  his 
glory  and  the  express  image  of  his  person."  He,  there- 
fore, could  say  to  one  of  his  disciples,  "  He  that  hath 
seen  me,  hath  seen  the  Father  ;"  he  could  say,  "  I  and 
my  Father  are  one." 

In  the  Son  of  God  we  have,  then,  a  full,  clear  and 
lively  exhibition  of  what  the  Father  himself  is — a  perfect 
picture  of  the  great  God.  In  character,  if  not  in  person, 
the  identity  is  complete.  If  the  Father  has  any  pleasure 
at  all  in  the  perdition  of  his  creatures,  he  shares  it  with 
the  Son.  In  this  sense,  Jesus  could  say  emphatically, 
"  All  things  that  the  Father  hath  are  mine."  And,  if  it 
was  in  the  Son,  it  must  have  appeared  in  wdiat  he  said 
and  did  while  on  the  earth. 

Who,  then,  and  what  was  Jesus  Christ  ?  What  was 
his  life,  his  demeanor,  his  spirit,  his  temper  ?  Who  can 
mistake  here  ?  What  perfect  freedom  from  all  malice, 
ill-will,  and  unkindness !  "  Who  did  no  sin,  neither  was 
guile  found  in  his  mouth ;"  "  holy,  harmless,  undefiled, 
and  separate  from  sinners."  He  was  confessedly  the 
perfect  embodiment  of  truth,  purity,  and  holiness ;  of 
goodness  and  mercy,  compassion  and  love.  Tlie  Roman 
governor  could  find  no  fault  in  him ;  and  keen-eyed 
infidelity,  on  the  alert  for  1800  years,  has  not  been  a 
whit  more  successful.  No  one  could  have  known  or 
heard  him  ;  no  one  can  read  the  testimony  that  God  has 
given  us  of  his  Son,  and  believe,  for  one  moment,  that 


302  THE    NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

Jesus  Clirist  does  or  can  take  any  pleasure  at  all  in  the 
sinner's  death. 

His  whole  life  was  a  glowing  illustration  of  the  might 
and  majesty  of  Infinite  Love.  What  moved  him  to 
leave  the  throne  ?  The  sight  of  our  ruin ;  the  sins  and 
sufferings  of  man.  He  came  "  to  seek  and  to  save  that 
which  w^as  lost."  His  one  great  errand  here  w^as  salva- 
tion. "  For  God  sent  not  his  Son  into  the  world  to  con- 
demn the  world,  but  that  the  world,  through  him, 
might  be  saved."  There  you  have  it — the  whole  story 
— the  Father  and  the  Son  combining  to  pluck  the  sinner 
as  a  brand  from  the  burning. 

What  amazing  proof,  moreover,  is  given  in  the  person 
of  Jesus,  that  the  Father  is  in  earnest  when  he  urges  the 
sinner  to  turn  and  live  !  "  For  God  so  loved  the  world, 
that  he  gave  his  only  begotten  Son,  that  whosoever 
belie veth  in  him  should  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting 
life."  "  In  this  was  manifested  the  love  of  God  toward 
us,  because  that  God  sent  his  only-begotten  Son  into  the 
world,  that  we  might  live  through  him.  Herein  is  love ; 
not  that  we  loved  God,  but  that  he  loved  us,  and  sent 
his  Son  to  be  the  propitiation  for  our  sins." 

What  means  that  beautiful,  exquisite  picture  in  the 
fifteenth  chapter  of  Luke  ?  That  younger  son — who  is 
he  ?  That  venerable  father,  whose  heart  is  breaking  for 
joy,  as  he  clasj)s  his  prodigal  to  his  aims — who  is  he  ? 
What  words  are  those  that  fall  from  the  lips  of  Jesus,  as 
he  sees  the  famishing  multitude  flocking  around  him  ? 
"  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden, 
and  I  will  give  you  rest  ?"  It  is  the  Father  speaking 
through  the  Son.  Go  now  and  stand  on  the  brow  of 
Olivet.  Who  is  it  that  gazes  so  intensely,  painfully, 
tenderly,  on  the  Holy  City,  with  its  myriads  of  perish- 
ing people  ?  What  mean  those  tears,  and  that  impas- 
Bioned  exclamation,  "  K  thou  hadst  known,  even  thou, 


303 

at  least  in  this  tliy  day,  tlie  tilings  wliicli  belong  unto 
tliy  peace  ?"  It  is  again  the  Father  speaking  through 
the  Son.  Draw  near  to  the  consecrated  spot,  under  the 
shadow  of  Olivet,  and  beneath  the  walls  of  the  city, 
where  the  Son  of  God,  "exceedingly  sorrowful  even 
imto  death,"  is  pouring  forth  his  cries  to  the  Father. 
Mark  that  bloody  sweat.  Hear  those  groans  of  anguish. 
What  means  it  all  ?  It  is  the  Father,  as  well  as  the  Son, 
speaking  in  every  tear,  in  every  groan,  in  every  drop 
of  the  Saviour's  blood,  to  every  sinner,  and  saying, 
"'  How  shall  I — how  can  I — ^give  thee  up  ?" 

We  behold  the  eternal  Father  giving  to  man  a  perfect 
law ;  holy,  just,  and  good ;  the  admiration  of  every  holy 
being  in  the  universe ;  admirably  fitted,  every  way, 
to  promote  the  peace,  the  prosperity,  the  purity,  and 
the  blessedness  of  the  race  forever.  And  when,  by  his 
own  folly  and  crime,  man  has  violated  that  law,  not 
giving  them  up  to  the  just  and  natural  consequence  of 
their  transgression,  but  devising  a  way  of  salvation  for 
the  most  guilty,  for  the  world,  of  mankind ;  a  far- 
reaching  plan  of  saving  mercy,  of  redeeming  love ; 
involving  the  sacrifice  of  his  only-begotten  Son — more 
to  him  than  of  a  thousand  worlds.  We  see  him,  not 
only  devising,  but  executing  that  plan  ;  putting  in  oper- 
ation the  vast  and  complicated  machinery  of  redemp- 
tion, and  keeping  it  in  operation  for  thousands  of  years, 
at  an  expense  of  time  and  treasure  absolutely  inconceiv- 
able ;  a  machinery,  of  which  all  the  w^ondrous  opera- 
tions of  his  providence  are  but  subsidiary  evolutions, 
working  out  his  grand  and  glorious  purposes  of  gvdce  to 
a  fallen  world. 

We  see  him,  in  the  execution  of  these  purposes  of 
mercy,  giving  up  his  only-begotten,  the  Son  as  dear  to 
him  as  his  OAvn  existence,  to  the  shame  and  agony  of  the 
cross ;  sparing  him  not,  but  pouring  on  him  the  wi'ath 


304  THE   NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

that  we,  by  onr  sins,  had  so  richly  deserved.  "We  see 
him  going  down  into  the  sepulchre,  to  bring  nj)  that 
Son  Ironi  the  grave,  robbing  death  of  its  sting,  and  the 
grave  of  its  victory ;  taking  him  to  his  throne,  and  the 
bosom  of  his  love,  in  glory ;  and  then  placing  at  his 
command  all  the  resources  of  the  universe,  for  the  accom- 
plishment of  his  mediatorial  designs. 

We  see  him,  in  the  person  of  this  exalted  Mediator, 
putting  in  operation,  also,  a  wonderful  system  of  agen- 
cies and  instrumentalities,  by  means  of  which  to  bring 
the  perishing  millions  of  mankind  to  the  knowledge  and 
belief  of  this  infinite  grace ;  a  dispensation  committed 
to  the  Holy  Spirit,  in  the  fulfillment  of  which  the  gra- 
cious Comforter  is  ever  at  work  among  men,  penetrating 
the  deepest  depths  of  the  human  heart,  entering  the 
vilest  abodes  of  infamy,  washing  away  the  foulest 
stains,  breaking  the  hardest  heart,  and  making  all 
things  new. 

All  this — and  for  what?  "E'ot  to  condemn  the 
world,  but  that  the  world  might  be  saved."  All  this, 
to  "  show  the  exceeding  riches  of  his  grace  "  in  the  sal- 
vation of  the  chief  of  sinners.  All  tliis,  to  confound  the 
powers  of  darkness ;  to  silence  the  caviler ;  to  still  the 
avenger ;  to  inspire  the  most  despairing  with  hope.  All 
this,  to  put  it  for  ever  out  of  the  power  of  men  or  devils 
to  impeach  the  mercy,  compassion,  and  infinite  grace  of 
the  Almighty ;  and  to  demonstrate,  to  an  admiriiig  uni- 
verse, the  absolute  and  eternal  truth  of  that  delightful, 
yet  wonderful,  proposition — "  God  is  Love." 

Yet  here,  far  away  in  this  dark  corner  of  his  empire, 
a  poor,  ignorant,  insignificant,  polluted  worm  of  the 
dust,  a  creature  of  a  day,  a  mere  mote  in  the  air,  a  mere 
mite  in  the  creation,  has  tlie  presumption,  the  hardi- 
hood, the  arrogance,  after  all  this  most  amazing  display 
of  unbounded  grace,  to  stand  up,  and  boldly  avow  his 


305 

doubts  of  tlie  willingness  of  God  to  save  him ;  yea, 
to  cast  the  blame  of  his  continuance  in  sin  and  unbelief 
upon  this  glorious  God  of  redemption ;  insinuating,  if 
not  affirming,  that  the  sinner's  death  and  damnation  are 
a  pleasure  to  him,  and  that  the  Almighty  would  have 
it  so !  Strange,  that  the  God  of  salvation  does  not 
instantly  hurl  the  thunderbolt  of  his  wrath  upon  thy 
presumptuous  head,  and  smite  thee  down  to  the  lowest 
depths  of  the  bottomless  pit !  That  he  "  lets  the  lifted 
thunder  drop,"  is  of  itself  proof  positive,  that  he  has  no 
pleasure  in  thy  death. 

But,  perchance,  you  will  say,  that  all  this  is  very  well 
for  those  for  whom  Christ  has  died ;  that  you  have  been 
given  to  understand,  that  Christ  did  not  die  for  all 
the  human  family ;  that  he  died  only  for  the  elect ;  and 
that  you  have  no  evidence  that  you  belong  to  that 
highly-favored  class;  and,  therefore,  know  not  that 
Christ  shed  his  blood  to  wash  away  your  sins.  Do  you 
find  any  such  statements  in  the  word  of  God  ?  Is  it  not 
the  language  of  human  philosophy  merely  ?  What  is 
the  testimony  of  the  Scriptures  on  this  point  ?  Are  we 
not  expressly  told,  that  he  "  is  the  Saviour  of  all  men, 
especially  of  those  that  believe  ?"  It  was  love  for  "  the 
world  "  that  prompted  the  Father  to  give  his  Son,  "  that 
the  world  through  him  might  be  saved."  "  It  is  a  faith- 
ful saying,  and  worthy  of  all  acceptation,"  says  the 
apostle,  "  that  Christ  Jesus  came  into  the  world  to  save 
sinners."  "  For  the  Son  of  Man  is  come  to  save  that 
which  was  lost."  He  is  "  the  Lamb  of  God,  which 
taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world."  The  universal 
depravity  of  man  is  argued  from  the  fact,  that  the 
sacrifice  was  made  for  all  mankind :  "  If  one  died  for 
all,  then  were  all  dead."  On  the  same  ground  it  is 
argued,  that  "  if  any  man  sin,"  he  may  seek  pardon  and 
reconciliation  through  the  great  Advocate,  "  Jesus  Christ 


306  THE    NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

tlie  rigliteons,"  wlio  "  is  the  propitiation  for  our  sins, 
and  not  for  ours  only,  but  also  for  the  sins  of  tlie  whole 
world."  To  preclude  any  such  limitation  of  God's 
grace,  on  the  part  of  the  caviler,  it  seems  to  have  been 
placed  on  record,  that  the  errand  of  the  Son  of  God 
to  this  earth  was,  "  that  he  by  the  grace  of  God  should 
taste  death  for  every  man." 

Such,  in  brief,  is  the  testimony.  On  this  ground  it  is, 
that  the  world  are  invited  to  the  feast  of  redeeming 
love  ;  that  Isaiah  cries,  "  Ho,  every  one  that  thirsteth, 
come  ye  to  the  waters ;"  that  Jesus  sends  out  his  dis- 
ciples with  the  broad  commission,  "  Go  ye  into  all  the 
world,  and  preach  the  gospel  to  every  creature ;"  that 
Christ  himself  exclaims,  "  If  any  man  thirst,  let  him 
come  unto  me  and  drink;"  and  that  the  volume  of 
Inspiration  closes  with  that  infinitely  gracious  call, 
"  "Whosoever  will,  let  him  take  the  water  of  life  freely;" 

Away,  then,  with  your  limitations  of  the  mercy  of 
God.  If  you  perish  in  your  sins,  it  will  not  be,  because 
the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ  does  not  cleanse  from  all  sin  ; 
nor  that  this  precious  blood  was  not  shed  for  you  as 
truly  as  for  me,  or  for  any  of  God's  saints ;  nor  that  the 
provisions  of  divine  grace  were  not  made  for  you ;  nor 
that  the  invitations  of  divine  love  were  not  addressed  to 
you ;  nor  that  God  was  not  in  earnest  when  he  bade  you 
come  to  tlie  feast  of  holy  love ;  nor  tliat  he  had  any 
pleasure  at  all  in  your  death.  If  you  perish,  you  will 
have  only  yourself  to  blame.  ''How  often  would  I," 
says  Jesus,  "  and  ye  would  not !"  "  Ye  will  not  come 
to  me,  that  ye  might  have  life."  If  God  is  constraiiu^l 
to  give  you  up  at  last,  it  will  be  under  protest — calh'iig 
upon  heaven,  earth,  and  hell,  to  bear  witness,  that  it  is 
your  own  doing,  and  not  his.  "  Say  unto  them,  as  I 
live,  saith  the  Lord  God,  I  have  no  pleasure  in  the  death 
of  the  wicked." 


man's  perdition  not  of  god.  307 

Be  persuaded,  perishing  sinner,  to  dismiss  from  your 
mind  every  disparaging  thought  of  God's  grace.  Believe 
him,  when  he  affirms  that  he  is  "  not  willing  that  any 
should  perish,  hut  that  all  should  come  to  repentance." 
Be  as  willing  to  come  to  him  through  Jesus  Christ  for 
pardon,  as  he  is  willing  to  have  you  come.  Take  him 
at  his  word  ;  put  him  to  the  test ;  make  trial  of  his  invi- 
tations, of  his  xjromises  ;  and  you  shall  know,  by  sweet 
experience,  the  truth  of  that  gracious  declaration— 
"  Him  that  cometh  to  me  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out." 


XXI. 

DUTY  OF  EEPEXTAXCE. 

BY  ASA  D.  SMITH,  D.  D., 
Pastor  of  the  Fourteenth  street  Presbyterian  ChiP^h. 

And  the  times  of  this  ignorance  God  winked  at;  but  no»  commandeth 
all  men  every  where  to  repent. — Acts  xvii.  30. 

The  times  of  "  ignorance"  referred  to  by  tli^,  Apostle, 
were  the  days  when  the  nations  of  the  earth  were  left 
generally  to  nnrebnked  idolatry.  They  worsliipped  de- 
parted heroes ;  the  host  of  lieaven ;  images  of  gold  and 
silver,  the  work  of  their  own  hands;  "birds,  four-footed 
beasts,"  and  even  "  creeping  things."  The  expression 
"  winked  at"  docs  not  imply  that  God  approved  of  their 
course.  The  word  thus  rendered  is  composed  of  a 
Greek  word  that  means  to  see,  and  a  preposition  which 
signifies  over.  Overlooked  would  be  a  literal  translation. 
It  means,  first,  that  God  suff"ered  the  nations,  with  no 
special  visitation,  whether  of  light  or  of  wrath,  to  pursue 
their  chosen  way.  There  were  wise  reasons  for  this. 
It  was  well  that  the  polluting  and  debasing  tendency 
of  sin  should  be  fully  manifested.  It  was  well  that 
the  utter  absence  of  any  recuperative  power  in  the 
human  heart  should  be  put  beyond  a  doubt.  It  was 
well  that  the  might  of  man's  vaunted  intellect  should  be 
tested,  and  all  be  compelled  to  own,  that  the  "  world  by 
wisdom"  would  forever  fail  to  know  God.  The  necessity 
of  divine  interposition  was  thus  to  be  demonstrated. 

803 


Dt]TY   OF   REPENTANCE. 


309 


The  plirase  in  hand  intimates,  in  the  second  place, 
that  the  gnilt  of  the  benighted  Gentiles  was  the  less 
on  account  of  their  ignorance.     God  estimates  blame- 
worthiness, other  things  being  equal,  according  to  the 
light  enjoyed.     "This  is  the  condemnation,"   said  onr 
Lord,  "that  light  is  come  into  the  world,  and  men  loved 
darkness  rather  than  light,  because  their   deeds  were 
evil."     "  K  I  had  not  come  and  spoken  to  them,  they 
had  not    had  sin  "—comparatively,   he   means— "  but 
now  they  have,  no   cloak  for  their  sin."     And  again, 
"That  servant  which  knew  his  Lord's  will,  and  prepared 
not  himself,  neither  did  according  to  his  will,  shall  be 
beaten  with  many  stripes ;  but  he  that  knew  not,  and 
did  commit  things  worthy  of  stripes,  shall  be  beaten  with 
few  stripes."      This  principle   of  judgment   commends 
itself  to  all  consciences.    The  guilt  of  one  walking  in  the 
midnight,  whether  of  ancient  or  of  modern  heathenism, 
is  far  inferior  to  thine,  my  unbelieving  hearer,  on  whom 
the  noonday  brightness  of  the  gospel  falls. 

The  world  of  old  was  thus  left  to  itself;  but  we  live 
"  now "  under  a  new  dispensation.  Now  that  the  Son 
of  God  has  come  to  earth,  and  made  atonement,  and 
ascended  to  glory ;  now  that  the  way  of  access  to  the 
Father  is  fully  opened,  and  the  gospel  proclaimed, 
"He  commandeth  all  men  every  where  to  repent." 
The  duty  of  repentance  is  the  theme  here  presented. 
We  shall  speak  first  of  the  nature  of  this  duty,  and, 
in  the  second  place,  of  the  enforcements  of  it  suggested 
by  the  text. 

I.  The  Nature  oftheDuty.— No  question  is  of  greater 
moment  than.  What  is  repentance  ?  It  is  an  initial  work. 
It  meets  us  at  the  threshold  of  salvation.  If  it  be  omitted, 
all  is  lost.  A  radical  mistake  here,  such  as  men  often 
make,  is  fatal  to  the  soul.  It  is  important  always  that 
it  be  clearly  understood,  but  especially  at  the  present 


310  THE   NEW    YORK   PULPIT. 

time.  Wq  fire  deeply  solicitous,  amid  the  general  awa- 
kening of  the  public  mind — when  interest  is  so  liable  to 
evaporate  in  mere  feeling,  or  to  be  misdirected — to  pre- 
sent the  truth  of  God,  on  all  the  great,  fundamental 
points,  in  the  simplest  and  clearest  manner.  At  a 
season  like  this,  above  all  others,  and  on  a  subject  like 
this,  "that  the  soul  be  without  knowledge,  it  is  not 
good."     True  repentance  embraces  three  things  : 

1.  A  Conviction  of  Sin. — A  conviction,  I  mean,  of  our 
own  sinfulness.  Else  there  will  be  no  disposition  to  re- 
ceive Christ.  "  They  that  be  whole  need  not  a  physi- 
cian, but  they  that  are  sick."  There  must  be  a  convic- 
tion not  merely  nor  mainly  of  particulars — of  this  or 
that  outward  or  inward  act — but  of  sin  in  its  great  unity, 
as  committed  against  God.  This  is  the  main  view.  This 
embraces  the  chief  evil  of  sin.  Fail  of  thus  apprehend- 
ing it,  and  whatever  else  you  think  or  feel,  you  fail  of 
true  contrition.  How  prominent  was  this  view  in  Da- 
vid's penitence.  "  Against  thee,"  he  says,  "  thee  only, 
have  I  sinned."  Other  dark  and  fearful  aspects  there 
Avere  of  his  transgression ;  but  this,  to  his  eye,  so  trans- 
cended them  all,  that  they  w^ere  comparatively  foi-got- 
ten.  And  this  estimate  accorded  perfectly  with  truth. 
For  sin  is  simply  a  transgression  of  the  law — ^not  of  a  law 
of  nature,  so  termed,  but  of  a  personal  God.  It  can  be 
called  sin,  in  the  strict  and  proper  sense,  only  in  that 
view.  As  God  is  infinitely  exalted  above  all  creatures, 
and  above  the  sum  of  all,  so  a  wrong  done  to  him  infi- 
nitely transcends  the  aggregate  of  all  other  wTongs.  It 
is  not  difficult  to  see  how  the  human  heart  may  act,  in 
its  repentings,  on  such  a  principle.  It  does  work  thus, 
often,  in  merely  human  relations.  Tliat  profligate  son, 
whose  evil  ways  have  brought  down  the  grey  hairs  of  a 
loving  and  faithful  mother  with  sorrow  to  the  grave,  has 
not,  indeed,  wTonged  her  alone.  Many  others  have  been 


DUTY    OF   REPENTANCE.  311 

harmed  by  his  misdeeds.  Yet,  as  he  muses,  at  that 
grave,  over  the  greater  obligations  that  bound  him  to 
her  who  bore  him,  and  the  greater  wrong  she  has  re- 
ceived at  his  hands,  it  is  no  strange  thing  if  all  other 
aspects  of  his  guilt  are  merged  and  lost  in  the  blackness 
of  this.  It  is  no  marvel  if  he  exclaims,  while  his  bitter 
tears  are  flowing,  "  Against  thee,  my  mother,  thee  only, 
have  I  sinned." 

We  must  be  convinced  of  sin  against  God,  in  its  two 
chief  relations  to  him.  It  is,  in  the  first  place,  against 
God  as  a  lawgiver.  Kot  merely  that  we  have  broken 
one  or  another  of  his  commands  in  the  outward  form. 
Tlie  great  fact  is,  that  we  have,  in  spirit,  broken  them 
all.  We  have  lacked  the  principle  of  loyalty.  We  have 
failed  practically  to  recognize  God's  sovereignty.  We 
have  not  enthroned  that  will  divine  which  gave  the  law. 
We  have  accorded  supremacy  rather  to  our  own  will. 
At  one  point  or  another — at  whatsoever  point  it  has 
seemed  good  to  us — we  have  said,  virtually,  "  ]^ot  thy 
will — ^but  mine  be  done."  Kot  in  words  has  this  broken 
from  our  lips — that  would  have  shocked  us.  But  in  the 
clearer  language  of  conduct  we  have  spoken — the  heart's 
truest  dialect.  Offending  in  one  point — ^knowingly,  wil- 
lingly, deliberately,  coming  short  even — we  are  "guilty 
of  all."  We  lack  utterly  the  true  spirit  of  obedience  ; 
that  which  acts  at  every  point,  which  yields  itself  sub- 
missively to  every  precept.  So  the  Scripture  affirms, 
as  in  the  testimony  of  the  apostle  James,  just  referred 
to.      Such,  too,  is  the  verdict  of  common  sense. 

We  must  be  convinced  also,  of  our  sin  against  God 
%n  Christ.  Here  is  the  culmination  of  our  guilt.  "  Of 
sin,"  says  Christ,  speaking  of  the  convincing  work  of 
the  Holy  Spirit,  "  because  they  believe  not  on  me."  It 
is  impossible  to  separate,  as  some  would  fain  do,  our 
relations  to  Christ  from  our  relations  to  God.     It  is  the 


312  THE   NEW   YORK   PULPIT. 

will  of  God  "  that  all  men  should  honor  the  Son  even 
as  they  honor  the  Father."  Christ  is  "  the  brightness 
of  his  glory  and  the  express  image  of  his  person."  In 
a  word,  "  God  is  in  Christ."  As  Christ  is  treated,  so  God 
is  treated.  If  Christ  be  rejected,  God  is  rejected.  So 
Jesus  said  to  the  Jews,  "  He  that  hateth  me,  hateth  my 
Father  also."  Nay,  as  the  most  glorious  manifestation 
of  God  is  in  Christ — as  God  thus  comes  nearest  to  us, 
making  the  most  potent  of  all  possible  appeals  to  our 
every  susceptibility — so  the  rejection  of  Christ  is  the 
most  aggravated  of  all  our  sins.  "  He  that  desj^ised 
Moses's  law  died  without  mercy  under  two  or  three  wit- 
nesses. Of  how  much  sorer  punishment  shall  he  be 
thought  worthy  who  hath  trodden  under  foot  the  Son 
of  God?" 

A  true  conviction  of  sin  embraces,  first,  of  course,  its 
intrinsic  wrongf illness.  It  is  deemed  evil  in  itself.  It 
is  seen  to  be  unreasonable  and  indefensible.  The  sinner 
has  done  with  palliations  and  excuses.  He  complains 
no  more  of  the  exceedins:  strictness  of  the  command- 
ment.  He  sees  it  now  to  be  "  holy,  just,  and  good." 
He  finds  fault  no  longer  with  the  provisions  of  the  gos- 
pel. He  makes  no  apologetic  reference  to  circum- 
stances— he  pleads  not,  in  self-justification,  inability  or 
the  power  of  temptation.  He  acknowledges  his  sin — as 
it  stands  related  both  to  God  in  the  law  and  to  God  in 
Christ — to  be  unspeakably  blameworthy.  He  sees,  too, 
the  entireness  of  his  depravity.  Not  that  he  lacks 
amiable  natural  traits  ;  not  that  he  is  as  bad  as  he  can 
be,  sin  having  reached  in  him  the  fullest  possible  develop- 
ment ;  but  simply  that  sin  reigns.  He  has  broken  the 
whole  hiAV,  and  rejected  the  whole  gospel.  Having 
repudiated  God's  supremacy,  and  having  entlironed  his 
own  will,  there  is  in  him,  of  course,  no  principle  either 
of  obedience  or  of  faith.     There  is  no  law  of  life  in 


DUTY   OF   REPENTANCE.  313 

his  soul.  He  is  "dead,"  he  sees,  "in  trespasses  and 
sins."  In  close  connection  with  all  this,  he  is  convinced, 
too,  of  liis  ill-desert  The  penalty  is  righteous,  as  well 
as  the  precept.  It  is  meet,  he  judges,  that  a  holy  and 
just  God  should  frown  on  a  rebel  like  himself.  He 
"  accepts  the  punishment  of  his  iniquity."  Not  that  he 
is  "  willing  to  be  damned."  God  does  not  require  this 
— but  rather  that  he  be  willing  to  be  saved.  Terrible 
to  his  thought  is  the  perdition  of  the  ungodly.  Yet  his 
language  still  is, 

"  Should  sudden  vengeance  seize  my  breath, 
I  must  pronounce  thee  just  in  death  ; 
And  if  my  soul  were  sent  to  hell, 
Thy  righteous  law  approves  it  well." 

It  should  be  noted  here,  however,  that  while  all  we 
have  set  forth  is  substantially  embraced  in  every  in- 
stance of  true  conviction,  it  is  by  no  means  embraced 
in  all  cases  with  equal  clearness.  It  is  with  the  facts  of 
our  depravity  as  with  many  others.  Intellectual  capa- 
city may  differ.  Instruction,  earlier  or  later,  may  be 
various.  Circumstances  may  have  an  influence.  In  the 
matter  of  salvation,  too,  the  same  Spirit  hath  a  diversity 
of  operation.  This  only  is  essential,  that  we  come  to 
judge  ourselves  wholly  and  inexcusably  sinful,  justly 
condemned — in  ourselves  hopelessly  lost — that  this  be 
so  seen  as  to  insure  the  appropriate  practical  results. 
Let  no  one  hesitate,  then,  to  come  to  Christ,  merely 
because  his  conviction  of  sin,  though  it  includes  all  the 
main  elements,  has  been  marked  by  less  of  distinci  -s 
and  vividness  than  many  others  have  experienced. 

2.  The  second  element  of  repentance  is  an  abhorrenco 

of  sin.     We  mean  by  this,  that  there  must  be  something 

more  than  mere  intellectual  apprehension.     We  mean 

that  what  the  judgment  and  the  conscience  condemn, 

11 


814  THE   NEW    YORK   PULPIT. 

the  heart  must  repudiate.  There  must  be  a  real  aver- 
sion from  it,  and  desire  of  the  contrary.  It  must  not 
only  be  seen  to  be  wrong,  it  must  be  felt  to  be  hateful ; 
else  you  go  not  beyond  the  experience  of  lost  men  at 
the  day  of  judgment,  or  even  of  devils.  Milton  has 
aptly  represented  the  arch-fiend  as  seeing  "virtue  in  her 
shape  how  lovely ;"  and  a  greater  than  Milton  has  said, 
.''  The  devils  also  believe  and  tremble  !" 

Few  words  are  required  to  set  forth  this  point.  Yet, 
awakened  souls  are  liable  to  a  serious  misapprehension 
just  here.  They  imagine,  often,  some  certain  degree  of 
emotion  to  be  requisite ;  and  not  having  been  conscious 
of  it,  they  judge  themselves  unprepared  to  accept 
Christ.  They  lay  great  stress  on  sorrow  as  an  element 
of  penitence,  and  having  never  known  such  intensity  of 
grief  as  others  have  professed,  they  regard  their  own 
exercises  as  essentially  defective.  Let  it  be  well  under- 
stood, then,  that  penitence  turns  not  chiefly  on  emotion. 
Tliat,  indeed,  is  of  comparatively  little  moment.  Tlie 
main  thing  is  the  decision  of  the  will,  the  settled  bent 
of  the  affections.  That  is  as  the  ground-swell  of  the 
sea.  Tlie  stir  of  the  emotional  nature  is  as  the  mere 
foam  upon  the  surface,  or  as  the  ripple  raised  by  the 
passing  breeze.  This  surface-excitement  does  commonly 
more  or  less  attend  the  deeper  feeling — just  because  the 
several  parts  of  our  being  are,  by  joints  and  bands 
which  God  has  devised,  firmly  knit  together.  Yet  it 
varies  indefinitely  in  different  persons — mainly  as  tem- 
perament varies,  in  part  as  circumstances  differ.  As  to 
mental  anguish,  of  which  some  think  so  much,  it  is  by 
no  means  essential  to  repentance ;  and  where  it  exists, 
it  is  wdth  great  diversity,  both  in  degree  and  in  mani- 
festation. So  is  it  in  relation  to  earthly  matters. 
A  dozen  men  convinced  of  bankruptcy,  would  prob- 
ably exliibit  about  as  many  different  phases  of  emo- 


DUTY   OF   REPENTANCE.  3l\ 

tion,  about  as  many  different  measures  of  mental  suf 
fering.  The  cliief  point,  you  feel,  if  a  man  has  basely 
wronged  you,  is  not  the  play  of  his  ligliter  susceptibili- 
ties, not  even  the  tears  he  may  shed,  and  the  agony  of 
soul  he  may  evince.  It  is  rather  his  full  conviction 
and  frank  acknowledgment  of  guilt ;  his  hearty,  unquali- 
fied condemnation  of  the  wrong  done ;  and  his  desire 
and  purpose,  however  calm,  to  do  thus  wickedly  no  more. 

3.  Tlie  third  constituent  of  true  repentance  is  a  for- 
saTcing  of  sin.  This  is  the  crowning  element.  By  this 
only  can  we  prove  to  ourselves  and  others,  that  our 
abhorrence  of  sin  is  sincere.  As  to  all  feeling,  we  are 
liable  to  self-deception.  It  is  intangible,  changeful, 
evanescent.  We  may  easily  mistake  a  mere  animal 
tremor  for  the  deep  movement  of  the  will.  Our  fancy 
may  transmute  mere  cloud-wreaths  of  sensibihty  into 
the  granite  of  principle.  The  only  sure  test  of  all  our 
inward  exercises  is  the  conduct.  Not  by  mere  seeds 
or  germs  are  men  known,  according  to  the  Scripture, 
but  "by  their  fruits."  The  seed  may  be  false,  the 
germ  may  lack  vitality.  Hepentance  must  be  acted. 
In  view  of  the  importance  of  this  point,  let  us  inquire, 
for  a  moment,  how  f 

There  must  be  a  forsaking  of  sin,  we  have  said — of 
sin  against  God.  First,  of  all  sin  against  the  God  of  the 
law.  Against  God,  in  other  words,  as  manifest  in  the 
law.  Whatever  he  frowns  on,  there  must  be  a  readiness 
to  renounce.  There  must  be  an  actual  abandonment  of 
everything — ^both  in  the  heart  and  the  life,  both  in 
thought  and  deed — which  the  divine  law  has  forbidden. 
No  matter  how  long  cherished,  or  how  dear  it  may 
be  ;  no  matter  how  painful  the  sacrifice,  though  it  be  as 
the  plucking  out  of  a  right  eye.  If  a  single  iniquity  be 
knowingly,  deliberately  retained,  there  is  no  true  repen- 
tance, there  can  be  no  good  hope  of  salvation. 


316  THE   NEW    YORK   PULPIT. 

Let  tliere  be  no  mistake  here.    Let  us  not  be  under- 
stood as  saying  what  we  often  deny,  that  the  sinner  is  to 
delay  liis  coming  to  Christ  till  he  has  purified  his  own 
heart,  till  the  last  vestige  of  corruption  is  purged  away  ; 
or  until  he  finds  himself  able,  in  his  own  strength,  to 
master  all  temptation,  and  to  rectify  perfectly  his  whole 
external  conduct.     That  were  a  vain  waiting,  indeed. 
"We  do  say,  however,  that  even  the  heart's  deep  corrup- 
tion must,  in  purpose  and  in  aim,  be  renounced  at  once. 
Why,  else,  should  the  soul  resort  to  Christ  ?     He  comes 
to  save  his  people  from  their  sins,  not  in  them.     He 
who  would  keep  a  single  heart-sin,  does  not  really  desire 
Christ.    We  especially  urge  that,  in  reference  to  the  spe- 
cific and  formal  outbreaks  of  corruption,  the  particular 
acts  on  which  conscience  can  fix  its  eye,  and  about  which 
there  must  be  some  specific  choice,  there  be  no  reserve,  no 
compromise.     They  must  be  fully  and  forever  renounced. 
Not  even  these,  indeed,  in  a  spirit  of  self-dependence, 
but  in  reliance  on  that  divine  aid  which  is  so  freely 
proffered.     Let  there  be  no  wedge  of  gold  hidden  in 
your  tent,  no  Babylonish  garment.     Say  of  no  seem 
ingly  trivial  sin,  "  The  Lord  i)ardon  thy  servant  in  this 
thing."     On  the  forsaking  even  of  that,  your  salvation 
may  turn.     A  single  secret  sin  is  often  as  the  hidden 
rock  on  which  the  soul  is  wrecked  for  eternity. 

"  Lord,  with  what  care  hast  thou  bcgh-t  us  round  ! 

Parents  first  season  us ;  then  schoohnastcrs 
Deliver  us  to  laws  ;  they  send  us  bound 

To  rules  of  reason,  holy  messengers — 
Pulpits  and  Sundays  ;  sorrow  dogging  sin  ; 

Afflictions  sorted ;  anguish  of  all  sizes ; 
Fine  nets  and  stratagems  to  catch  us  in  ;  • 

Bibles  laid  open  ;  miUions  of  surprises  ; 
Blessings  beforehand  ;  ties  of  gratefulness  ; 

The  sound  of  glory  ringing  in  our  ears ; 
Without,  our  shame  ;  within,  our  consciences ; 


DUTY   OF  REPENTANCE.  317 

Angels  and  grace  ;  eternal  hopes  and  fearg — 
Yet  all  these  forces,  and  their  whole  array^ 
One  cunning  bosom-sin  blows  all  away." 

There  must  be,  in  the  second  place,  a  forsakmg  of 
sin  against  God  in  Christ.  Important  as  this  point  is, 
it  is  often  overlooked.  "Repentance,"  says  one,  "is, 
indeed,  a  reasonable  duty.  I  do  not  neglect  it.  I  call 
to  mind,  daily,  the  sins  I  have  committed  ;  I  sorrow 
over  them,  and  resolve  to  be  guilty  of  them  no  more. 
What  lack  I  yet  ?"  We  might  press  the  inquiry.  Do 
you  indeed  truly  deplore  all  your  violations  of  God's 
law,  and  is  the  grieving  followed  by  a  forsaking  ?  But 
just  here  we  have  another  question  to  ask.  Be  it  as  it 
may  in  regard  to  the  law,  how  is  it  in  relation  to  the 
gospel  ?  Have  you  repented  of  your  sin  against  God  as 
there  manifested — of  your  rejection  of  his  own  dear 
Son  ?  There  can  be  no  true  penitence,  be  it  ever  remem- 
bered, until  Christ  is  received.  While  you  harden  your 
heart  against  him,  you  harden  your  heart  against  the 
Father.  While  you  refuse  to  trust  in  his  blood,  to 
avail  yourself  of  his  righteousness,  to  take  him  as  your 
Saviour-Lord,  to  give  yourself  to  him — while  you 
stand  aloof  from  him,  however  calmly,  and  with  what- 
ever outward  tokens  of  respect  for  Christianity — ^you  are 
still  in  opposition  to  God,  you  have  still  in  your  bosom 
the  stony  heart.  Unbelief,  Christ  has  assured  us,  is  the 
great  sin;  it  is  against  the  greatest  display  of  God's 
excellency.  Just  at  this  point,  then,  is  the  great  work 
of  penitence  to  be  done.  True  contrition  loves  especially 
to  break  her  alabaster  box  of  ointment  in  the  presence 
of  Jesus ;  to  wash  his  feet  with  her  tears,  and  to  wipe 
them  with  the  hairs  of  her  head.  Weep  over  sin 
wherever  else  you  may,  unless  your  grief  is  stirred  at 
the  foot  of  the  cross,  it  is  but  "  the  sorrow  of  the  world 
that  worketh  death."     We  would  still  ask  him,  then, 


318  THE   NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

who  professes  daily  penitence,  Have  you  ceased  to  turn 
away  from  Clirist  ?  Have  you  cast  your  soul  upon  liim  ? 
Is  lie  near  and  dear  to  your  lieart  ?  Would  you  gladly 
come  to  your  pastor's  study  to-day,  and  talk  with  him  of 
the  love  of  Jesus,  and  kneel  with  him  in  a  common  self- 
consecration  to  him  who  has  bought  us  with  his  own 
precious  blood  ?  Trust,  we  beseech  you,  in  no  repent- 
ance which  hath  not  issues  like  these. 

II.  We  pass  to  speak,  as  was  proposed,  of  the  en- 
fokce:ments  of  this  duty.  I^ot  of  all,  indeed,  for  the 
Bible  is  full  of  them,  but  of  such  only  as  are  naturally 
and  directly  suggested  by  the  text.     "We  observe,  then, 

1.  It  is  commanded.  We  say  this,  with  an  eye  to  the 
impression,  too  prevalent,  we  fear,  that  this  is,  in  some 
sense,  an  optional  matter — that  it  is  a  proffered  privi- 
lege, of  which  it  is  well  that  all  avail  themselves,  but 
not  an  enjoined  service.  It  is  indeed  a  privilege  and 
an  overture — 'but  it  is  also  a  mandate.  God  "  command- 
eth,"  the  text  reads,  and  so  many  other  scriptures.  Tlie 
duty  comes  to  us  invested  with  all  the  authority  of 
Jehovah.  He  lays  this  command,  O  unconverted  man, 
athwart  your  path.  It  lies  in  your  way  to  yonder  door. 
Y  ou  cannot  leave  your  seat  impenitent,  without  tramp- 
ling it  beneath  your  feet.  Wilt  thou  thus  war  against 
thy  Maker  ?  "  Hast  thou  an  arm  like  God  ?"  "  Who 
hath  hardened  himself  against  Him  and  prospered  ?" 

2.  It  is  a  Gospel  C07nmand.  The  expression  "  now  " 
suggests  this.  The  nature  of  the  case  proves  it.  In 
repentance,  it  is  true,  the  great  principles  of  righteous- 
ness are  all  included,  the  very  same  that  underlie  the 
law.  Yet  in  the  law,  distinctively  aj^prehendcd,  there 
can  be  no  place  for  this  duty,  though  you  "  seek  it  care- 
fully with  tears."  What  the  law  requires,  and  what 
alone  it  will  accept,  is  perfect  obedience.  Think  of  a 
Btatute  against  highway  robbery,  declaring  that  he  who 


DUTY    OF   REPENTANCE.  319 

breaks  it  shall  be  pnnislied,  unless  he  repent!  Still 
more  absui'd  would  be  a  law  of  like  character,  under  the 
perfect  government  of  God.  No  ;  it  is  only  in  the  gospel 
that  repentance  is  enjoined — for  there  only  is  such  an 
injunction  possible.  Bear  in  mind,  then,  as  the  duty  is 
urged  upon  you,  that  it  is  a  blessed  gospel  boon.  Ee- 
member  the  infinite  price  wherewith  it  was  purchased 
— the  blood  of  the  Son  of  God.  Enforced  it  is,  as  we 
have  said,  by  the  divine  authority,  yet  it  is  commended 
to  you,  also,  by  all  that  is  tender  and  persuasive  in  the 
love  of  Christ.  It  is  not  Sinai  that  bids  you  repent.  Only 
thmiders  of  condemnation  come  thence,  and  flashes  of 
wrath.  In  the  words  of  the  text,  as  in  all  like  scriptures, 
it  is  Calvary  that  pleads  with  you.  Refuse  the  voice 
that  thus  speaketh,  and  you  "crucify"  to  yourself 
"the  Son  of  God  afresh." 

3.  Consider^  finally^  the  heljp  to  repentance  freely  of- 
fered you.  This,  again,  the  word  "  now  "  suggests.  E'ot 
only  do  all  the  motives  of  the  fully  proclaimed  gospel 
press  upon  you;  the  aid  of  the  purchased  Spirit  may  be 
yours.  Otherwise,  the  humiliation  and  death  of  Christ 
would  have  been  all  in  vain.  Motives,  alone,  of  what- 
ever sort,  and  however  arrayed  before  the  mind,  are  im- 
potent to  work  contrition.  This,  perhaps,  you  are  for- 
ward to  alleg-e.  You  refer  to  it  as  a  partial  excuse,  or 
you  sj)eak  of  it  in  a  tone  of  despondency.  We  admit 
the  fact ;  yet  it  aggravates,  clearly,  rather  than  lightens 
your  guilt.  Motives  fail  to  affect  you,  not  because  you 
lack  the  faculties  essential  to  moral  agency,  and  which 
make  you  responsible,  both  as  a  subject  of  law  and  as 
addressed  in  the  gospel.  It  is  simply  because  of  the  depth 
and  strength  of  your  depravity.  A  humiliating  fact  it 
is,  and  one  which  may  well  awaken  your  fears — one 
which  would  warrant  despair,  but  for  the  completeness 
of  the  salvation  divinely  provided.     Dark  though  your 


320  THE    NEW    YORK   PULPIT. 

case  is,  hope  still  beams  upon  it.  Unconquerable  your 
depravity  is  by  any  finite  power ;  yet  the  Spirit  Al- 
mighty, the  Spirit  of  all  grace,  comes  to  your  deliverance. 
How  do  all  the  Persons  of  the  Adorable  Trinity  pass  be- 
before  you  in  the  appeal  of  the  text — God  the  Father,  as 
the  author  of  the  broken  law,  and  as  having  given  his  Son 
that  a  place  for  repentance  might  be  secured — God  the 
Son,  as  having  opened  by  his  death  the  way  of  life,  and 
having,  nevertheless,  been  ungratefully  and  basely  reject- 
ed by  you — God  the  Holy  Spirit,  as  pitying  your  guilty 
impotence,  and  offering  to  succor  it — ^yea,  with  gentle  and 
loving  importunity,  urging  that  offer  upon  you.  Oh,  yield 
to  this  wondrous  appeal  I  Yield  to  the  present  pressure 
of  the  Spii'it  upon  your  heart.  "  Work  out  your  own 
salvation  with  fear  and  trembling,  for  it  is  God  that 
worketh  in  you  to  will  and  to  do  of  his  good  pleasure." 
Come,  as  the  first  act  of  penitence,  to  Christ ;  and  if 
your  heart  seem  to  you  still  hard,  say,  as  you  come, 

"  Dear  Saviour,  steep  this  rock  of  mine 
In  thine  own  crimson  sea ! 
None  but  a  bath  of  blood  divine 
Can  melt  the  flint  away." 


XXII. 
EELIGIOUS  INSEI^TSIBILITY. 

BY  S.  D.  BURCHARD,  D.D. 
Pastor  of  the  Thirteenth  street  Presbyterian  Church, 

Who,  being  past  feeling,  have  given  themselves  over  unto  lascivious- 
ness,  to  work  all  uncleanness  with  greediness. — Eph.  iv.  19. 

Emotion  is  not  the  characteristic  of  "  a  stock  or  a 
stone,"  but  it  may  be  predicated  of  all  intelligent  beings. 
God  himself  has  emotions ;  he  feels  deeply  interested  in 
his  fallen  and  sinful  creatures.  He  is  represented,  not 
as  wisdom  or  power,  but,  in  one  all  comprehensive 
phrase,  as  love. 

There  can  be  no  love  without  emotion — emotion  that 
stirs  the  heart  to  its  deepest  depths. 

Man,  in  this  respect,  is  made  after  the  image  of  God. 
He  has  intellect ;  he  can  apprehend  truth,  but  he  can 
also  feel  its  power.  He  can  study  the  character  of  the 
Divine  Being,  he  can  also  feel  the  force  of  his  claims. 
This  implies  the  existence  of  conscience,  or  a  moral 
nature. 

Human  feelings  are  various,  and  usually  exist  under 
the  presentation  of  appropriate  objects.  An  object 
purely  sublime  is  adapted  to  awaken  the  emotion  of 
sublimity — an  object  of  distress,  the  emotion  of  pity. 
Thus  of  all  the  feelings  which  characterize  the  human 
heart.  They  have  their  origin  and  counterpart  in  the 
external  world,  either  in  the  world  of  fiction  or  fact. 


322  THE    NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

An  object,  real  or  imaginary,  must  be  before  the  eye,  or 
the  mind,  and  the  feeling  receives  its  type  or  character 
from  the  nature  of  the  object. 

A  man  may,  indeed,  by  education,  or  evil  habits,  per- 
vert the  great  law  of  sensibility.  He  may  suffer  the 
fires  of  passion  and  appetite  to  rage  until  his  sensibili- 
ties are  burnt  to  a  crisp.  He  may  disrobe  himself  of 
the  proper  elements  of  humanity,  and  so  inure  himself 
to  scenes  of  horror,  that  no  cry  of  distress  shall  awaken 
the  corresponding  emotion  of  pity  in  his  heart.  It  is 
said  that  Nero,  by  early  acts  of  cruelty  to  the  inferior 
animals,  schooled  himself  for  his  future  mission  of  per- 
secution and  blood. 

God  made  our  nature  full  of  tenderness  and  sympathy, 
and,  if  we  are  cold  and  unfeeling,  it  shows  that  some 
tremendous  evil  has  been  at  work  marring  the  beauty 
of  our  original  creation. 

These  general  remarks  prepare  us  to  consider  a  specific 
class  of  feelings  called  moral,  or  religious. 

Having  a  religious  nature,  man  is  susceptible  of  such 
feelings,  which  are  superinduced  by  the  presentation  of 
appropriate  truth  or  motives.  Such  feelings  are  essen- 
tial to  right  moral  action.  I^o  one  ever  started  in  the 
Christian  life  without  emotion.  'No  one  ever  cried  for 
mercy  until  he  felt,  with  the  publican,  that  he  was  a 
sinner.  Feeling,  at  tliis  stage,  may  vary  in  difierent 
individuals,  in  depth  and  intensity,  according  to  tem- 
perament and  habits  ;  but  our  position  is,  that  feeling,  to 
some  extent,  must  exist  before  the  dawn  of  spiritual  life. 
The  intellect  first  apprehends,  and  then  tlie  heart  feels, 
the  power  of  divine  truth.  This  is  tlie  process,  and  to 
deny  it  is  to  controvert  all  Christian  experience. 

The  absence  of  all  religious  emotion  proves  one  vrt 
both  of  two  things :  either  a  defective  j^erception  of 
moral  truth,  or  a  hardened  and  diseased  state  of  sensi- 


RELIGIOUS    INSENSIBILITY.  323 

Lility.  Truth,  wlien  distinctly  perceived,  will  daguer- 
reotype its  image  on  the  soul,  unless  the  moral  nature, 
the  conscience  and  the  aiFections,  are  strangely  perverted. 
The  text  is  a  part  of  that  fearful  description  which  the 
Apostle  gives-  of  the  character  and  condition  of  the 
heathen.  Sin  had  produced  upon  them  a  moral  paralysis, 
so  that  there  was  not  only  a  defective  perception  of 
truth,  and  an  alienation  from  God,  but  a  total  inertness 
and  deadness  of  sensibilities.  They  were  "  past  feel- 
ing," and  this  was  the  most  hopeless  feature  in  their 
case.  The  material,  on  which  the  truth  had  to  work, 
was  too  hard  to  be  impressed — the  fire  could  not  melt 
it,  the  hammer  could  not  break  it.  Oh,  there  is  some- 
thing terrible  in  this  description.  Something  that  seems 
to  discourage  effort,  and  gathers  around  its  subjects  the 
fearfulness  of  an  eternal  doom ! 

I  do  not  say  that  we  have,  among  our  hearers,  a  class 
who  answer  to  this  description,  who  are  "  past  feeling," 
whom  no  enginery  of  truth  can  affect,  whose  whole  souls 
are  bent  into  a  challenging  array,  or  chilled  by  a  hope- 
less estrangement  from  God. 

It  is  in  the  hope,  by  divine  assistance,  of  awakening 
feeling  where  none  now  exists,  that  I  am  encouraged  to 
come  to  you  with  the  great  messages  of  mercy,  and  to 
speak  to  you  of  your  peril  and  guilt. 

Sig7is  of  Religious  Insensibility  will  he  the  theme  of 
OUT  j^esent  meditation. 

I.  The  FIRST  WHICH  I  MENTION  IS,  THE  TOTAL  FAILURE  OF 
DIVINE  TRUTH  TO  AFFECT  THE  HEART. 

Nothing  can  be  better  adapted  to  awaken  emotion,  to 
stir  the  sensibilities  of  our  nature,  than  this  "  glorious 
gospel  of  the  blessed  God."  Its  truths  are  so  various, 
so  vital,  so  life-inspiring,  so  intimately  connected  with 
our  best  good,  that  it  would  seem  none  could  resist,  none 


324  THE   NEW    YORK   PULPIT. 

could  remain  insensible  witliont  doing  violence  to  tlieii 
better  nature.  Paul  bad  a  proper  conception  of  tbe 
approi^riateness  and  efficacy  of  divine  truth  to  affect 
the  heart,  when  he  spoke  of  it,  as  "  sharper  than  a  two- 
edged  sword,  piercing  even  to  the  dividing  asunder  of 
the  soul  and  the  spirit,  the  joints  and  the  marrow,  a 
discerner  of  the  thoughts  and  of  the  intents  of  the 
heart."  Analyze  this  gospel,  which  is  declared  to  be 
"  the  wisdom  of  God  and  the  power  of  God  unto  salva- 
tion," and  see  if  it  is  not  adapted  to  awaken  intense 
anxiety  in  relation  to  the  peril  and  value  of  the  soul. 
Take  its  simple  statement,  so  unequivocal,  that  "  all 
have  sinned  and  come  short  of  the  glory  of  God,"  that 
"he  that  believeth  not  on  the  Son  is  condemned 
abeady,  and  the  wrath  of  God  abideth  on  him."  Let  a 
man  contemplate  the  great  fact  of  sin,  in  its  nature,  in 
its  relations  to  God,  his  laws  and  government,  in  its  con- 
sequences to  himself,  in  its  polluting  and  condemnatory 
power ;  let  him  realize  into  what  depths  it  sinks  him, 
and  how  it  exposes  him  to  the  wrath  of  God  and  the 
pains  of  hell  forever,  and  he  must  have  lost  the  sen- 
sibilities of  a  man  not  to  be  affected  by  such  a 
view. 

If  he  has  failings  or  fears,  it  would  seem  that  they 
would  be  excited  ;  if  he  has  any  regard  for  his  own  well- 
being,  it  would  seem  that  he  would  institute  the  inquiry, 
"Wherewithal  shall  a  man  cleanse  his  way,  or  be  just 
before  God  V^  If,  then,  this  view  does  not  affect  him, 
if  the  clearest  demonstration  of  personal  sinfulness  and 
legal  exposure  leave  him  in  a  state  of  stoicism  and 
moral  indifference,  is  there  not  reason  to  fear  that  the 
fountain  of  feeling  will  never  be  unsealed,  and  that  he 
will  be  left,  a  congealed  monument  of  religious  insensi- 
bility? 

Take  another  fact  of  the  gospel,  the  fact  that  "  God  so 


EELIGIOTJS    INSENSIBILITY.  325 

loved  tlie  world  that  lie  gave  liis  only-begotten  Son,  tliat 
whosoever  believeth  in  him  should  not  perish,  but  have 
everlasting  life."  This,  indeed,  is  the  great  element  of 
its  power.  Take  Christ  from  the  gospel,  and  you  take 
away  its  life-giving  energy,  and  it  ceases  to  be  good 
news  and  glad  tidings  to  a  race  of  sinners.  'No  light 
streams  through  it  upon  the  darkened  soul ;  no  soften- 
ing influence  pierces  the  inner  gloom;  no  invitations 
from  above  draw  up  the  sullen  mind  towards  heaven. 
There  is  no  remedy  for  sin,  and  no  hope  for  the  sinner 
but  the  cross  of  Christ.  And  whatever  view  may  be 
taken  of  this  wonderful  plan  of  deliverance  from  the 
curse  and  pollution  of  sin,  it  is  preeminently  adapted  to 
awaken  both  fear  and  hope.  The  thought  that  He  who 
hangs  upon  the  cross,  and  in  that  hour  of  darkness  and 
agony  clears  away  every  legal  obstacle,  which  stood 
between  us  and  eternal  life,  is  the  Son  of  God,  gives  to 
the  work  of  redemption  dimensions  we  can  never  com- 
pass, and  an  aspect,  I  had  almost  said,  terrific^  on  account 
of  its  greatness. 

ITow,  what  is  the  design  of  this  gospel  presentation  ? 
I  answer,  that  you  may  see  your  guilt  and  peril,  and 
that  you  can  be  justified  only  by  grace,  through  the 
redemption  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus.  If  this  aspect  of 
the  gospel  fail  to  affect  you,  what  mightier  or  more 
touching  instrumentality  can  God  apply?  Could  he 
give  you  a  more  striking  exhibition  of  the  evil  of  sin,  or 
of  the  fact  that  there  is  salvation  in  none  other,  than  he 
has  done  by  putting  his  own  Son  on  the  cross  ?  Surely 
he  has  told  you,  in  this  fact,  that  there  were  difficulties 
so  huge  and  so  mighty  in  the  way  to  heaven,  obstacles 
so  many  and  so  high  in  the  way  of  pardon,  enemies  so 
subtle  and  so  strong  to  human  redemption,  that  none 
but  "  God  manifest  in  the  flesh,"  and  he  too  travailing 
in  the  greatness  of  his  strength,  was  sufficient  to  meet 


326  THE   NKW    YOEK    rULPIT. 

and  overcome  tliem.  Oh !  tell  ine,  if  the  salvation  of 
man  was  not  a  Avondrons,  a  mighty  conception,  when,  to 
undertake  it,  God  alone  was  equal,  and  when,  in  the 
achievement,  the  man  Christ  Jesus,  sustained  as  he  was 
by  the  Divinity,  struggles  and  labors  as  he  does,  and 
sinks  in  the  crisis  of  his  conflict  ? 

There  is  something  amazing  in  this  thought !  There 
is  something  w^hich  gives  us  an  insight  into  the  fearful- 
ness  and  peril  of  sin ;  something  w^hich  shows  us  that  we 
cannot  gauge  the  dimensions  of  that  fearfulness,  nor  form 
anything  like  a  conception  of  its  peril. 

Now,  the  point  of  my  argument  is  this :  the  cross  of 
Christ,  viewed  either  as  an  illustration  of  the  evil  of  sin, 
or  as  the  only  remedy  for  sin,  or  as  an  exponent  of  God's 
great  love,  fails  to  affect  you ;  and  if  this  fail,  then  no 
truth,  no  instrumentality  can  affect,  and  that,  conse- 
quently, you  are  "past  feeling,"  and  furnish  in  your 
own  experience  a  sad  proof  that  you  cannot  be  saved. 
Oh !  it  is  a  lamentable  spectacle  to  see  a  sinner  unaf- 
facted  by  the  cross ! 

"If  angels  weep,  it  is  at  such  a  sight." 

If  you  look  at  the  dealings  of  God's  providence,  you  see 
that  they  are  all  marked  with  kindness.  If  you  look  to 
his  word,  you  see  that  it  comes  to  you  freighted  with 
the  most  tender  and  the  most  terrible  appeals.  K  you 
look  to  his  Son,  you  see  that  he  is  every  way  adapted  to 
meet  your  moral  exigencies.  Is  it  possible  for  him  to  do 
more  than  he  has  done  ?  Shall  I  say  it  ?  Oh !  there  is 
no  irreverence  in  speaking  thus,  when  we  wish  to  mag- 
nify the  love  of  God.  He  has  done  his  hest,  and  in 
giving  himself,  he  has  furnished  the  strongest  demonstra- 
tion of  his  love,  and  commended  himself  to  your  con- 
fidence in  the  most  powerful  appeal  he  could  make. 
Could  he  have  stirred  the  human  mind  with  motives 


RELIGIOUS    INSENSIBILITY.  327 

more  startling  or  thrilling  than  those  presented  in  his 
Holy  Word  r 

If,  in  the  Avork  of  redem^Dtion,  God  has  done  what  he 
could,  what  then  shall  we  say  of  the  sanctions  by  which 
obedience  to  the  gospel  is  enforced  ?  Can  we  conceive 
of  anything  more  wdnning,  more  effective  in  its  capti- 
vating influence,  than  the  heaven  bought  with  the  blood 
of  Jesus ;  anything  more  terrific  to  the  soul  than  a  hell, 
which  must  show  in  its  agonies  the  value  of  that  blood  ? 
Oh !  can  there  be  a  higher  spot  than  that  on  which  the 
cross  of  Christ  shall  stand,  or  an  abyss  deeper  than  that 
to  which  the  cross  shall  sink  ? 

When  you  give  a  moment's  reflection  to  the  theme  of 
redemption,  you  are  startled  by  its  amazing  dimensions ; 
but  if  it  is  grand,  stupendous,  and  overpowering  to  the 
mind,  on  account  of  the  gift  of  Jesus  Christ,  it  is  no  less 
grand,  stupendous,  and  overpowering,  on  account  of  the 
motives  by  which  it  enforces  the  acceptance  of  that  gift. 

ISTow,  as  yet,  these  motives  have  been  unavailing  in 
producing  that  state  of  feeling  essential  to  your  cordial 
acceptance  of  Christ.  And  if  the  highest  conceivable 
motives  are  powerless  and  insufficient,  what  shall  we 
say  of  your  condition  and  prospects  %  Are  we  not  con- 
strained to  apprehend  that  you  are  "  past  feeling,"  when 
God's  best  and  wisest  instrumentalities  have  left  you 
morally  insensible  % 

There  is,  however,  one  more  aspect  of  the  gospel,  in 
the  light  of  which  I  wish  to  view  your  condition.  The 
reality  of  the  Spirit's  agency  is  certainly  a  doctrine  of 
the  Scripture.  This  was  the  promised  gift  of  Jesus, 
previous  to  his  leaving  his  disciples ;  and  his  influence 
is  realized  in  every  case  of  genuine  conversion.  We  are 
said  to  be  "begotten  of  the  Spirit."  We  regard  this 
truth  as  furnishing  an  illustration  of  the  greatness  of  the 
gospel  system  as  striking  as  any  of  its  other  features. 


S28  THE   NEW   YORK    PULPIT. 

That  God  Himself  should  tlms  come  down,  and,  in 
person,  work  with  his  guilty  creatures,  is  an  amazing 
thought ! 

Here,  then,  we  come  again  to  you  with  an  argument. 
God  could  not  have  done  better  in  this  respect  than  he 
has  done.  He  could  not  have  employed  a  wiser,  a 
kinder,  a  more  energetic  agency ;  for  he  acts  in  this 
matter  himself.  He  could  not  bring  an  influence  to 
bear  upon  you  better  adapted  to  the  result.  I^ow,  the 
point  upon  which  I  wish  to  fasten  the  minds  of  my  im- 
penitent friends  is  this — they  all  withstand  the  Tnove- 
Tiients  and  the  strivings  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  God  has 
not  moved  them  by  the  display  of  the  cross ;  he  has  not 
moved  them  by  the  motives  and  the  warnings  he  has 
addressed  to  them ;  he  does  not  move  them  when  he 
comes  home  to  them  jpersonally^  and  brings  his  mind 
into  contact  with  theirs.  Am  I  not  right  in  the  state- 
ment of  this  proposition  ?  Oh,  what  would  I  give  to  be 
wrong !  It  w^ould  be  a  fact  of  no  little  moment,  could 
it  be  proved  that  you  had  never  resisted  the  Holy  Spirit, 
and  -that  in  his  nearest  apj^roaches  and  his  tenderest 
appeals.  And  if  imder  this  divine  influence,  under  this 
mightiest  agency,  you  are  left  without  feeling,  what,  I 
ask,  are  your  prospects  and  condition?  You  complain 
that  you  have  no  feeling,  and  it  may  be  that  your  com- 
plaint is  well  founded ;  but  could  God  do  more  to  make 
you  feel  ?  If,  imder  the  combined  action  of  the  gospel, 
with  the  superadded  influence  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  you 
are  still  insensible  to  your  guilt  and  peril,  then  we  fear, 
we  do  fear,  that  you  are  of  the  number  who  are  "  past 
feeling." 

II.  I  NAME,  AS  A  SECOND  MiUiK  OF  RELIGIOUS  INSENSI- 
BILITY, THE  ENTIRE  PRE-OCCUPANOY  OF  THE  MIND  BY  FEEL- 
INGS PURELY  SECULAR  AND  WORLDLY. 


RELIGIOUS    INSENSIBILITY.  329 

If  a  field  is  covered  with  briers  and  thorns,  we  may 
look  in  vain  for  the  blossoms  that  will  ripen  into  fruit ; 
and  thus,  if  a  man's  heart  is  filled  with  worldly  thoughts 
and  aspirings,  it  becomes  poor  and  most  unpromising 
soil  for  the  introduction  of  the  spiritual  seed-grain.  The 
farmer  might  as  w^ell  sow  his  seed  by  the  wayside, 
where  the  fowls  of  the  air  would  devour  it  up,  or  in 
stony  places,  where  there  is  not  much  earth,  or  amid 
overmastering  thorns,  as  for  the  spiritual  husbandman 
to  scatter  broadcast  the  word  of  the  kingdom  among  a 
people,  who  are  all  absorbed  with  the  interests  and 
objects  of  this  present  world.  As  often  as  he  retires 
from  his  labors  will  he  be  constrained,  with  the  prophet, 
to  exclaim,  ''  Who  hath  believed  our  report,  and  to 
whom  is  the  arm  of  the  Lord  revealed  ?"  His  people 
are  pre-occupied  with  otlier  matters,  the  schemings  and 
workings  of  trade,  the  show  and  masquerade  of  life, 
and  the  fret  and  weariness  of  a  realized  or  disajpjpointed 
ambition.  Much  toiling  for  mere  worldly  advance- 
ment, much  popularity,  much  intercourse  in  the  usages 
of  fashionable  society,  or  much  time  devoted  to  the 
refinements  of  a  soft  and  luxurious  life,  do  steel  the 
heart  against  all  religious  impressions,  and  leave  it 
totally  estranged  from  God.  They  come  and  thrust 
themselves  between  a  man's  soul  and  the  realities 
unseen  ;  they  drop  like  a  veil  over  the  faint  outlines  of 
the  invisible  world  and  hide  it  from  his  eyes.  They 
ring  too  loudly  in  his  ear,  and  throw  too  strong  an 
attraction  over  his  heart,  to  sufi'er  him  either  to  appre- 
hend or  feel  the  spiritual  embassies  of  peace  and  love. 
Any  ruling  worldly  affection — ^be  it  a  love  of  display, 
a  love  of  money,  or  a  love  of  fame — becomes  a  source 
of  powerful  temptation,  and  a  primal  cause  of  serious 
deterioration  of  character.  It  soon  stifles  the  voice  of 
conscience,  and  when  that  divine  monitor  is  laid  to 


330  THE    NEW    YORK    TULPIT. 

sleep,  to  preacli  is  as  powerless  as  to  propliesy  over  the 
bones  of  Ezekiel's  vision.  Tlie  world  has  eaten  its 
way  into  the  soul,  and  the  ruling  passiou,  whatever  it 
is,  so  predominates  over  all  the  emotions  and  aliections, 
and  so  di-aws  the  whole  mind  to  itself  as  to  make  the 
man  a  helpless  victim  to  his  besetting  sin,  and  imper- 
vious to  all  the  gospel  appeals  to  a  spiritual  life.  It 
may  be  said  of  him,  it  may  be  said  of  you^  my  fellow- 
men,  if  this  is  your  portraiture,  that  yon  are  "  past 
feeling,  dark  monuments  of  a  mind  hoj)elessly  aban- 
doned to  its  idols. 

Does  not  the  Apostle's  view  harmonize  with  this, 
when,  speaking  of  the  greed  of  gain,  he  says,  "  But  they 
that  will  be  rich  fall  into  temptation,  and  a  snare,  and 
into  many  foolish  and  hurtful  lusts,  which  drown  i[xiq,vl 
in  destruction  and  perdition  \  For  the  love  of  money  is 
the  root  of  all  evil,  which  while  some  coveted  after, 
they  have  erred  from  the  faith,  and  pierced  themselves 
through  with  many  sorrows." 

III.  I  NA^tE,  AS  A  THIRD  MARK  OF  RELIGIOUS  INSENSI- 
BILITY, THE  ABSENCE  OF  FEELING  AT  PARTICULAR  PERIODS 
IN   A   man's   life. 

There  are  special  seasons  in  every  one's  history  which 
favor  his  introduction  into  the  kingdom  of  God — blessed 
epochs,  when  religious  feeling  would  seem  to  be  the  most 
natural  and  the  most  inevitable  thing  in  his  experience. 
Sorrow,  of  whatever  kind,  is  doubtless  an  original  con- 
sequence of  sin ;  but  under  the  gracious  and  redemptive 
economy,  it  is  a  means  of  discipline  and  growth  in 
grace.  To  the  impenitent  and  such  as  will  not  obey  tlie 
truth,  it  is  still,  as  ever,  a  dark  mystery  :  to  the  contrite 
and  obedient,  it  is  as  the  refiner's  fire  and  the  fuller's 
soap,  purging  out  the  imperfections  of  a  fallen  nature. 
To  such,  "  all  things  work  together  for  good."  To  them, 


RELIGIOUS    INSKNSIBIIJTT.  331 

eveiy  providence  lias  a  meaning  and  a  voice.  To  tliem, 
all  events  and  all  changes,  the  open  volumes  of  nature 
and  Revelation,  tlie  Sabbath  and  the  Sacrament,  stand  in 
the  relation  of  Teachers  uttering  great  words  of  wisdom 
and  counsel.  'No  less  instructive  is  the  voice  of  providen- 
tial bereavement.  When  pain  searches  into  the  bodj  or 
the  spirit ;  when  the  objects  of  our  earthly  love  are  severed 
from  our  embrace,  we  often  feel  as  though  God  were 
speaking  to  us  with  peculiar  emi:)hasis,  awakening  deep 
and  tender  responses  in  the  heart.  When  his  hand  is  upon 
us,  we  hear  with  a  quickened  sense  and  obey  with  a 
readier  will.  Hence,  many  can  say  with  the  Psalmist, 
"  It  is  good  for  me  that  I  have  been  afflicted,  for  before 
I  was  afflicted  I  went  astray ;  but  now  have  I  learned 
thy  statutes ;  or  with  Job,  "  I  have  heard  of  thee  by 
the  hearing  of  the  ear,  but  now  mine  eye  seeth  thee." 
Suifering,  in  its  effects,  will  be  either  for  good  or  evil, 
and  if  it  do  not  sanctify  and  win,  it  will  harden  and 
alienate.  And  when  we  see  yon  passing  through  scenes 
of  personal  trial,  through  the  furnace  of  affliction, 
through  bodily  suffering,  with  the  hand  of  God  heavy 
upon  you,  and  you  still  unmoved,  your  heart  like  the 
burned  and  barren  heath,  we  do  fear  lest  that  which 
was  designed  as  a  savor  of  life  shall  prove  only  a  savor 
of  death  unto  death.  Some  of  you  have  suffered,  but 
you  have  not  learned  obedience  by  the  things  which 
you  have  suffered.  You  have  seen  your  earthly  hopes 
crumbling  to  dust  and  ashes  before  your  eyes,  and  yet, 
you  have  turned  with  a  more  clinging  fondness  to  the 
world.  You  have  gone  from  the  chamber  of  sickness 
or  the  house  of  mourning  or  the  burial  of  a  friend,  only 
to  mingle  in  the  great  strife  for  gain.  And  when  the 
affliction  has  come  nearer  home  and  the  shadows  have 
deepened  in  your  own  dwelling,  and  a  child  or  a  be- 
loved companion  has  been  the  victim,  how  speedily 


832  THE    NEW   YORK    PULPIT. 

have  you  emerged  from  the  depression,  and  cast  off  fear, 
and  restrained  prayer.  You  were  not  moved  by  the 
lighter  trial,  and  then  came  the  sharper  and  the  heavier. 
You  were  not  affected  by  the  ordinary  means  of  grace, 
and  then  God  sent  the  extraordinary i  and  if  under  this 
latter  dispensation  of  suffering  you  remain  hardened  ana 
impenitent,  surely  you  must  be  "  past  feeling,"  and  wc 
can  only  weep  and  regret  that  that  which  was  designed 
as  a  blessing  should  prove  only  a  curse. 

There  are  seasons  of  religious  refreshing^  when  an 
unusual  solemnity  rests  upon  the  whole  community, 
when  the  languishing  graces  of  Christians  are  revived, 
and  they  engage  with  unwonted  fervor  and  fidelity  in 
all  the  duties  of  their  high  calling,  when  the  tithes  and 
offerings  are  all  brought  into  the  store-house,  and  the 
windows  of  heaven  are  opened,  when  the  truth  preached 
is  attended  with  the  demonstration  of  the  Spirit  and  of 
power  from  above,  and  multitudes  are  disposed  to  take 
the  kingdom  of  God  by  violence  and  make  their  calling 
and  election  sure.  That  we  are  passing  through  such  a 
favored  season  none  can  doubt,  unless  their  hearts  are 
blinded,  and  they  abandoned  to  the  delusions  of  the  most 
hopeless  skepticism.  Tliis  is  manifestly  the  work  of 
God,  not  the  result  of  strained  and  artificial  means  ;  not 
an  animal  and  fevered  excitement,  which  passes  away 
like  the  morning  cloud  and  the  early  dew,  but  a  calm 
movement  of  the  Spirit,  subduing  human  hearts  and 
gathering  in  a  rich  and  glorious  harvest.  The  earnest 
laborers  in  the  field  have  thrust  in  the  sickle,  and  they 
may  be  seen  home-returning  bringing  their  sheaves  with 
them. 

ISTow,  how  have  you  been  affected,  my  fellow-men, 
by  this  blessed  outpouring  of  the  Holy  Spirit  ?  Some  of 
you  I  know,  have  been  quickened  and  raised  from  a 
death  in  sin,  and  you  are  no  longer  "carnal "  but  "  spir- 


RELIGIOUS   INSENSIBILITY.  333 

itiial,"  having  a  new  life  in  Christ ;  but  many,  alas  !  are 
still  insensible,  deaf  to  the  voice  of  the  Spirit,  cold  and 
dead  as  a  corpse  wrapped  in  its  shroud.  See  now  how 
God  has  dealt  with  you  and  what  he  has  done  for  you, 
and  how  you  liave  withstood  all,  and  are  to-day  farther 
from  his  kingdom  than  ever  before. 

He  has  plied  you  with  his  truth,  and  brought  your 
mind  under  the  influence  of  the  powers  of  the  world  to 
come.  He  has  sent  his  Holy  Spirit  to  reason  with  you 
of  righteousness,  temperance,  and  judgment.  He  has 
put  a  check  uj)on  your  worldly  career  by  the  rod  of  his 
chastisement.  He  would  have  led  you  through  a  rough 
path  and  by  a  "  way  that  is  desert,"  to  the  very  borders 
of  the  promised  land,  "  and  yet  for  all  this  you  have 
sinned  still."  He  has  permitted  you  to  pass  through  a 
season  of  special  religious  interest,  and  you  have  heard 
from  the  lips  of  many,  "  Men  and  brethren,  what  shall 
we  do?"  And  yet,  amid  all  this  .bursting  glory  of  a 
revival,  this  season  of  promise  and  springing  freshness, 
you  have  put  forth  no  fruit,  and  exhibited  no  marks  of 
spiritual  life. 

Should  a  farmer  thoroughly  plough  his  field,  should " 
he  carefully  sow  the  seed,  should  the  sunshine  and  the 
showers  be  given  in  appropriate  abundance ;  and  yet, 
after  all  his  toil  and  the  benefactive  influence  of  Provi- 
dence, there  should  be  no  harvest,  the  inference  would 
be  irresistible  that  the  soil  was  essentially  defective, 
cold  and  barren.  Tliis,  too,  strikingly  represents  the 
field  of  your  hearts  ;  the  good  seed  has  been  sown,  the 
kind  and  blessed  influences  of  heaven  have  descended^ 
and  when  we  had  a  right  to  expe(}t  a  harvest,  lo  !  the 
field  is  all  covered  with  briers  and  thorns,  and  is  nigh 
unto  cursing.  "We  pity  you,  and  moui'n  over  your  guilt 
and  moral  insensibility,  and  say,  "  Oh !  that  you  were 
wise,  that  you  understood  this,  and  that  you  would  con- 


334  THE   NEW   YORK   PULPIT. 

sider  your  latter  end."  We  regard  your  condition  as  one 
of  extremest  peril.  Yon  are  condemned  already,  and 
tlie  time  of  your  spiritual  decaj)itation  hastens,  and  yet 
tlie  prosj)ect  excites  no  dread,  awakens  no  fear.  You 
are  like  the  criminal  in  his  cell,  who  amuses  himself 
with  the  rude  pictures  on  the  w^all,  and  s]3orts  and  sings, 
while  the  scaffold  is  erecting,  and  the  preparations  are 
made,  and  the  people  are  gathering  to  witness  the 
scene  of  his  execution.  "We  tell  you  there  is  danger. 
"  And  because  there  is  wrath,  bew^are  lest  He  take  thee 
aw\ay  wdth  a  stroke  ;  then  a  great  ransom  cannot  deliver 
thee."  Could  you  be  aroused  to  a  sense  of  your  condi- 
tion there  would  be  hoj)e,  but  it  is  this  dreadful  insensi- 
bility, which  saddens  the  heart  of  piety,  quenches  the 
spirit  of  prayer,  and  throws  an  aspect  of  gloom  over 
your  eternal  prospects. 

lY.  I  NAME,  AS  A  FOUKTH  I^IAEK  OF  EELIGIOUS  INSENSI- 
BILITY, THE  ABSENCE  OF  RESTRAINT  IN  PURSUING  A  LIFE  OF  SIN. 

We  live  in  a  world  of  warnings  and  restraints.  They 
gather  around  us  from  our  earliest  childhood,  in  a 
mother's  prayers,  in  a  father's  counsels,  in  the  clustering 
and  blessed  influence  of  the  Sabbath-school,  the  sanc- 
tuary, the  pulpit,  and  in  all  the  sacred  rites  of  our  holy 
religion.  They  are  heard  and  felt  in  the  alarm  bells  of 
conscience,  in  the  voice  of  Providence,  and  in  the  fore- 
shadowings  of  eternal  retribution.  These  restraints  are 
not  easily  broken.  Tliey  hold  us  at  anchorage,  and 
keep  us  from  drifting  out  into  a  dark  and  unknown  sea. 
Tliey  are  worn  as  amulets,  to  charm  away  from  us  the 
spirits  of  evil,  and  not  until  w^e  divest  ourselves  of  their 
potent  influence  can  we  go  to  great  lengths  in  sin. 
Even  those  far  advanced  in  a  career  of  wrong-doing, 
will  feel  their  power  drawing  them  back  from  the  verge 
of  peril  and  perdition. 


RKLIGIOUS    INSENSIBILITY.  335 

ISTow  and  then  you  see  a  man  apparently  divested  of 
all  restraint,  and  lie  "  sins  as  it  were  with  a  cart  rope." 
Tlie  hallowed  memories  of  home,  the  dying  echoes  of  a 
mother's  prayers,  the  tender  reminiscences  of  earlier 
days,  stir  no  tumnlt  in  his  heart  and  awaken  no  earnest 
longings  to  return  to  a  better  life.  He  seems  spell- 
bound, perfectly  infatuated  by  the  sorceress  of  evil,  and 
just  at  this  point  infidelity  often  comes  in  to  mingle  her 
drugs  in  the  Circean  cup,  and  the  work  of  ruin  is  con- 
summated. To  reason  with  him,  is  to  attempt  to  reason 
with  the  fool,  who  "  says  in  his  heart  there  is  no  God." 
He  is  "  past  feeling,  given  over  unto  lasciviousness,  to 
work  all  uncleanness  with  greediness." 

Lest,  my  hearers,  you  should  feel  that  you  are  not  at 
all  included  in  this  description,  inasmuch  as  your  outer 
life  is  moral  and  free  from  the  grosser  forms  of  vice, 
permit  me  to  say,  that  crime,  in  the  estimation  of  God, 
is  not  confined  to  specific  deeds  of  villainy,  such  as 
debauch  and  degrade  humanity.  According  to  the" 
Scriptural  standard,  impenitence  is  a  crime  ;  unbelief  is 
a  crime  ;  neglect  of  prayer  is  a  crime  ;  ingratitude  is  a 
crime ;  indifference  to  the  claims  of  the  gospel  is  a 
crime ;  and  if  you  can  commit  these  high  ofiences 
without  remorse  and  without  restraint,  it  shows  that  the 
process  of  moral  hardening  is  very  far  advanced.  If 
you  can  retire  from  the  sanctuary  without  emotion, 
after  a  powerful  appeal  from  the  word  of  God,  if  you  can 
go  away  from  a  communion  season  unafi'ected  by  its 
touching  and  irresistible  eloquence,  you  carry  with  you 
manifest  proofs  of  the  profoundest  moral  insensibility. 
You  see  a  manly  form  j)rostrate  and  powerless — the 
pulse  still,  the  eye  sunken  and  closed,  the  ear  deaf  to 
the  calls  of  aftection,  and  you  do  not  hesitate  to  afiirm 
that  the  insensibility  of  death  is  there.  To  the  eye  of 
spiritual  discernment  there  are  certain  signs  which  indi- 


336  thp:  new  tork  pulpit. 

cate  tlie  more  dreadful  insensibility  of  moral  dcatli.  It 
lias  been  our  purpose,  in  this  discourse,  to  spread  some 
of  these  signs  out  before  you,  that  you  may  see,  my 
imj)enitcnt  friends,  your  moral  condition  and  prospects. 
We  have  seen  that  you  have  been  successful  in  main- 
taining your  indifference  amid  the  most  powerful  exhi- 
bitions of  gospel  truth — that  you  have  suffered  your 
minds  to  be  totally  preoccupied  with  the  world — that 
you  have  passed  through  seasons  of  providential  afflic- 
tion and  revival  interest  without  any  salutary  and  abid- 
ing impressions — that  you  cast  off  fear  and  restrain 
prayer,  and  sin  openly  with  less  compunction  than 
formerly ;  and  if  these  are  not  indications  of  a  most 
dreadful  and  fatal  stupor,  then  we  confess  that  we  do 
not  understand  the  analysis  of  that  state  indicated  in 
the  text  by  the  phrase,  "  being  past  feeling,  and  given 
over  nnto  lasciviousness,  to  work  all  nncleanness  with 
greediness." 

I  leave  you  to  judge  whether  any  of  you  belong  to 
the  class  described  ;  but  if  either  of  these  marks  fasten 
upon  you,  there  is  reason  for  alarm ;  and  deep  mental 
agony,  and  concern  for  your  soul's  salvation,  are  urged 
upon  you  by  every  motive  that  can  appeal  to  a  rational 
and  immortal  creature. 

REMARKS. 

1.  This  religious  insensibility  is  not  natural^  hut  the 
result  of  a  gradual  and  hardening  j^rooess. 

ISTature  has  made  us  full  of  tenderness,  with  hearts 
susceptible  to  the  impressions  of  truth.  You  have  not 
always  been  as  you  now  are — thus  cold,  thus  indifferent. 
Time  was  when  your  emotions  were  easily  stirred ;  when 
a  mother's  tender  appeal  touched  you ;  when  you  could 
weep  under  an  affecting  discourse  ;  when  you  could  not 
turn  away  from  the  communion  table  without  a  struggle 


RELIGIOUS   INSENSIBILITY.  337 

to  keep  down  feeling,  and  hide  the  tear  just  starting  to  the 
eye.  But  these  blossoms  never  ripened  into  fruit.  The 
spring-time  was  full  of  freshness  and  promise  ;  but  "  the 
summer  is  ended,  and  the  harvest  is  past,  and  you  are 
not  saved."  The  process  of  moral  hardness  is  slow, 
oftentimes  insensible.  Little  by  little  the  insensibility 
creeps  on,  marked  by  no  great  changes,  much  as  the 
dimness  of  the  natural  sight,  which  must  reach  to  an 
advanced  point  before  it  is  detected  to  be  more  than  a 
passing  film.  The  mind  has  been  impressed  from  time 
to  time,  and  you  have  suffered  the  impression  to  wear 
away ;  and  this  constant  annealing  and  cooling  process 
has  changed  the  nature  of  the  original  material,  and  left 
the  heart  unchangeably  hard — hard  as  a  nether  millstone. 
Oh,  what  a  change  from  the  warm  and  sensitive  nature 
of  youth ! — a  change  wrought  by  your  own  voluntary 
rejection  of  urgent  and  rej)eated  calls,  by  saying  to 
God's  messenger  of  mercy,  "  Go  thy  way  for  this  time  ; 
when  I  have  a  convenient  season  I  will  call  for  thee," 
by  doing  what  you  are  now  doing,  postponing  the  set- 
tlement of  moral  issues  to  an  uncertain  future.  Will 
you  now  pause  and  bring  this  whole  matter  to  a  sum- 
mary and  speedy  conclusion?  Will  you  lay  these 
things  to  heart,  and  suffer  this  apjjeal  of  love  to  have 
its  proper  influence  over  you  ? 

In  conclusion,  I  may  say  a  word  to  those  who  do  feel, 
who  are  not  embraced  in  the  analysis  or  applications  of 
our  text.  I  rejoice  that  there  are  such,  whose  con- 
sciences are  quickened  to  a  new  and  living  energy,  who 
are  not  ashamed  or  afraid  to  have  it  known  that  their 
feelings  are  interested  on  the  great  subject  of  the  soul's 
salvation.  Need  I  say  that  your  position  is  one  of  hope 
and  alarm,  of  promise  and  of  peril.  You  may  he  saved ; 
you  are  not  far  from  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  yet  your 
soul  may  draw  back ;  you  may  stifle  your  convictions, 

15 


338  THE   NEW    YORK   PULPIT. 

grieve  tlie  Spirit,  and  bring  down  upon  yourselves  a 
double  curse.  Should  you  miss  salvation  now,  what  a 
failure !  Should  you  fail  to  enter  the  kingdom,  now 
that  yom-  feet  touch  its  threshold,  what  endless  crimina- 
tions would  be  yours !  Oh,  st/rive  to  enter  into  the  strait 
gate !  Jesus  is  ready  to  w^elcome  you,  to  help  you,  to 
take  the  load  from  your  burdened  heart.  He  says, 
"  Him  that  cometh  to  me,  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out." 
You  may  come ;  you  may  venture  all  upon  Him.  He 
is  dble^  he  is  willing.    Will  you  come  f 


XXIII. 
•  TRUE  RELIGIO]^,  A  SEEYICE. 

BY  ROSWELL  D.  HITCHCOCK,  D.D., 
WasTibwrn  Professor  of  Church  History,  in  the  Union  Theological  Senwnary. 

Not  every  one  that  saith  unto  me,  Lord,  Lord,  shall  enter  into  the  king- 
dom of  Heaven ;  but  he  that  doeth  the  will  of  my  Father,  which  is  in 
Heaven. — St.  Matthew,  vii.,  21. 

These  words  are  taken  from  Christ's  Sermon  on  the 
Mount.  It  is  in  this  same  discourse  that  he  speaks  of 
the  strait  gate,  and  the  narrow  way,  which  leadeth 
unto  life ;  and  of  the  wide  gate,  and  the  broad  waj, 
that  leadeth  unto  death ;  seeking  evidently  to  make  the 
impression,  that  it  is  an  easy  thing  for  us  to  be  lost,  and 
not  an  easy  thing  for  us  to  be  saved. 

The  same  point  is  brought  to  view  in  a  conversation 
which  our  Lord  had  with  his  disciples  near  the  end  of 
his  life,  as  he  was  journeying  with  them  for  the  last 
time  towards  Jerusalem.  "Then  said  one  unto  him, 
Lord,  are  there  few  that  be  saved  ?  And  he  said  unto 
them.  Strive  to  enter  in  at  the  strait  gate ;  for  many, 
I  say  unto  you,  will  seek  to  enter  in,  and  shall  not  be 
able."  As  though  his  reply  had  been:  Only  a  few 
will  be  saved,  and  they  at  the  cost  of  a  most  intense 
and  bitter  struggle.  Discipleship  is  not  a  thing  of  ease, 
but  of  agony. 

And  so  our  Master  has  put  a  stern  face  upon  the 
Christian  life.  The  gateway  to  it  is  narrow,  and  the 
path  is  hard  ;  not  gently  sloping  towards  the  heavens, 


340  THE   NEW   YORK    PULPIT. 

but  of  sliarp  and  wearisome  ascent,  over  the  mountains 
and  amongst  the  clouds ;  while  those  who  are  in  it  are 
not  a  thronging  caravan,  winding  on  with  joyous  music, 
but  a  slender  line  of  pilgrims,  climbing  at  once,  and 
fifichtins:,  as  soldiers  who  storm  a  fortress.  This  is  one 
aspect  of  the  Christian  life. 

But  there  are  other  passages  of  a  much  milder  and 
more  genial  tone.  Such,  for  example,  as,  "  Come  unto 
me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will 
give  you  rest.  Take  my  yoke  upon  you,  and  learn  of 
me ;  for  I  am  meek  and  lowly  in  heart :  and  ye  shall 
find  rest  unto  your  souls.  For  my  yoke  is  easy  and  my 
burden  is  light."  An  utterance,  the  cadence  of  which 
is  tremulous  and  tender  with  a  divine  compassion,  for- 
bidding distrust,  and  yearning  to  save  us  all.  And  this 
is  another  aspect  of  the  Christian  life. 

That  these  two  modes  of  speech,  apparently  so  much 
at  variance,  involve  really  no  mutual  contradiction,  but 
are  only  different  aspects  of  one  and  the  same  grand 
economy  of  life,  will  be  put  at  once  beyond  all  question, 
if  we  but  observe  the  different  classes  of  persons  to 
whom  they  were  addressed.  To  souls  harassed  and  bur- 
dened by  the  weight  of  the  law,  moral  and  ceremonial, 
painfully  conscious  of  their  own  deficiencies,  brought  to 
desperation  by  the  scourgings  of  conscience,  and  willing 
to  accept  any  deliverance  which  God  may  offer,  Christ 
presents  himself  as  a  helping  friend.  Gentle  as  a  sum- 
mer breeze,  he  will  break  no  bruised  reed,  he  will 
quench  no  smoking  wick.  His  yoke  is  easy  and  his  bur- 
den light.  But  to  souls  once  lifted  up  out  of  their  legal 
thralldom,  and  once  delivered  over  into  the  freedom  of 
the  gospel,  this  same  Christ  presents  himself  as  a  Master, 
and  liis  word  is,  "  Then  ye  arc  my  disciples,  if  ye  do 
whatsoever  I  command  you." 

Equally  notable  is  the  seeming  contradiction,  but  real 


TRUE    RELIGION,    A    SERVICE.  341 

harmony  between  Paul  and  James,  both  of  them  sjieak- 
ing  of  one  and  the  same  man,  Abraham.  "  To  him  that 
worketh  not,"  says  Paul,  "  his  faith  is  counted  for  right- 
eousness." "  Ye  see,  then,"  says  James,  "  how  that  by 
works  a  man  is  justified,  and  not  by  faith  only."  "  By 
faith,"  says  Paul ;  "  by  works,"  says  James.  Martin 
Luther,  seeking  to  deliver  and  revive  a  Church  fettered 
and  paralyzed  by  the  medieval  heresy,  which  made 
faith  and  works  coordinate  as  the  ground  of  acceptance 
with  God,  has  no  patience  with  this  Epistle  of  James, 
calls  it  "  an  epistle  of  straw,"  and  preaches  Christ  in 
a  strain  of  well-nigh  intemperate  and  lawless  liberty. 
"  The  gospel,"  he  says  in  his  trenchant  style,  "  preaches 
nothing  of  the  merit  of  works ;  he  that  says  that  the 
gospel  requires  works  for  salvation,  I  say  flat  and  plain, 
is  a  liar."  But  this  first  conflict  being  over,  the  thrall- 
dom  broken,  and  the  life  renewed,  those  who  follow 
Luther  proclaim  once  more  the  necessity  of  works. 
"We  never  dream,"  says  Calvin,  "either  of  a  faith 
destitute  of  good  works,  or  of  a  justification  unattended 
by  them."  And  there  is  falsehood  in  neither  of  these 
statements ;  nor  any  real  contradiction  between  them. 
Only  the  truth  has  a  double  front.  Facing  towards 
formalism,  its  front  is  grace.  Facing  towards  the  con- 
science of  a  pardoned  sinner,  rejoicing  in  hope,  its  front 
is  good  works. 

Such  is  the  law  of  utterance  on  this  subject  as  estab- 
lished by  Christ  himself,  observed  by  his  apostles, 
observed  by  the  great  champions  of  the  Protestant 
Reformation,  and  demanding  to  be  observed  by  us. 
Addressing  the  unregenerate,  who  writhe  under  the  bond- 
age of  evil,  and  are  pining  to  be  delivered,  our  message 
is,  "  Believe  and  be  saved."  But  the  moment  belief  is 
rendered,  and  the  deliverance  achieved,  while  yet  the 
eyes  are  streaming  with  grateful  tears,  and  the  shout  of 


342  THE   NEW    YORK   PULPIT. 

triumph  is  bursting  from  the  lips,  we  confront  the  jubi- 
lant disciple  with  these  stern  words  of  our  Eedeemer ; 
"  K  any  man  will  come  after  me,  let  him  deny  himself, 
and  take  up  his  cross,  and  follow  me." 

To  the  latter  class  of  persons,  the  ransomed  and  the 
rejoicing,  is  my  errand  now.  I  come  to  speak  not 
of  grace,  but  of  duty,  not  of  faith,  but  of  works,  not  of 
the  sweet  begiimings  of  the  Christian  life,  in  the  midst 
of  which  we  may  stand  and  shout,  but  of  the  far-reach- 
ing, rugged,  and  upward  path,  along  which  the  bugle 
calls  us  to  march  and  struggle  for  our  crown. 

Our  text,  it  will  be  observed,  is  in  close  connection 
with  what  was  said  of  the  strait  gate,  and  the  narrow 
way.  And  few,  few  there  be  that  find  it.  "  Not  every 
one  that  saith  unto  me,  Lord,  Lord,  shall  enter  into  the 
kingdom  of  heaven ;  but  he  that  doeth  the  loill  of  my 
Father,  which  is  in  heaven."  As  to  the  exact  meaning 
of  these  words,  it  may  be  remarked,  that  to  call  Christ, 
Lord,  is  to  acknowledge  him  as  the  Messiah;  and  by 
the  repetition  of  the  address.  Lord,  Lord,  it  is  indicated^ 
that  the  acknowledgment  is  a  zealous  and  fervent  one. 
In  a  word,  the  head  is  orthodox,  and  the  heart,  appa- 
rently, is  warm.  And  yet  this  correct  and  glowing 
acknowledgment  of  Christ  as  the  Messiah,  however 
emphatic  and  however  fervid,  is  not  sufficient  to  save 
the  soul.  As  for  the  orthodoxy  of  it,  the  devils  also 
believe.  And  as  for  the  fervor  of  it,  self-deception  is 
as  easy  as  the  heart  is  deceitful  above  all  things. 
Any  man,  of  course,  will  think  he  loves  Christ,  if  he 
only  imagines  that  Christ  will  save  him ;  while,  after 
all,  it  is  not  Christ  that  he  loves,  but  only  his  own  soul, 
selfishly  sighing  and  scheming  to  have  it  saved. 
ITeither  right  beliefs,  therefore,  nor  lively  emotions  of 
joy  and  gratitude,  are  enough.  There  is  also  some- 
thing to  be  done  ;  there  are  self-denials  to  be  endured ; 


TRUE   RELIGION,   A   SERVICE.  343 

there  is  a  warfare  to  be  waged ;  a  life-long  service  to  be 
accomplislied.  In  short,  we  are  to  be  saved,  through 
Christ,  not  by  our  beliefs,  nor  by  our  feelings,  but  by 
our  lives ;  by  what  we  are,  as  embodied  in  what  we  do. 
Religion  is  not  a  dogma,  nor  an  emotion,  but  a  service. 
Oiu'  Redemption  is  not  of  the  head  alone,  nor  of  the 
heart  alone,  but  preeminently,  and  most  decisively  of 
the  life,  as  the  only  infallible  criterion  of  what  we  really 
are.  It  is  to  the  elucidation  and  enforcement  of  this 
important  truth  that  your  attention  is  now  invited. 

I.  In  the  first  place,  let  us  be  warned  against  making 
our  religion  a  matter  merely  of  opinion. 

It  is  implied  in  our  text,  that  there  were  persons 
amongst  the  Jews  who  acknowledged  Christ  as  the  Mes- 
siah, perhaps  had  joined  themselves  to  his  company  and 
yet  were  not  his  genuine  disciples.  They  were  persuaded 
of  his  Divine  authority  and  mission,  on  many  points 
understood  and  relished  his  teachings,  but  were  not  the 
subjects  of  his  grace.  Some  of  this  class  fell  away 
from  their  discipleship  as  the  instructions  of  the  Master 
deepened.  As  for  example,  on  that  memorable  occa- 
sion, when  our  Lord  told  his  hearers,  that  they  must  eat 
his  flesh  and  drink  his  blood,  in  order  to  have  eternal 
life ;  which  so  scandalized  many  of  his  disciples  even, 
that,  as  John  relates,  they  "  went  back  and  walked  no 
more  with  him."  While  others,  probably,  who  with, 
stood  this  shock  of  staggering  doctrine,  may  have 
quailed  and  fainted  under  the  storm  of  persecution, 
which  presently  began  to  rage. 

Similar  instances  abound  in  the  history  of  the 
Christian  church.  Multitudes  have  joined  themselves 
to  the  people  of  God,  to  all  appearance  savingly  im- 
pressed by  Christian  truth,  and  running  well  for  a 
time,  only  at  length  to  fall  off  into  heresy  and  schism, 
and  lose  their  souls.     Other  multitudes,  who  were  far 


34:4:  THE   NEW    YORK   PULPIT. 

enoiigli  from  any  heresy  of  doctrine,  have  yet  been 
Christians  only  in  their  opinions,  disciples  of  the  man 
of  ISTazareth  only  as  of  some  master  in  philosophy,  with 
no  renewal  of  the  heart  and  no  radical  transformation 
of  the  life. 

In  our  day,  the  number  of  such  mere  speculative  be- 
lievers is  doubtless  large.  Tlie  religion  of  Christ,  in  its 
course  over  the  globe,  and  down  through  history,  has 
been  winning  for  itself  a  fullness  and  force  of  demonstra- 
tion which  now  almost  compels  the  reverence  of  a  think- 
ing mind.  The  infidelity,  which,  in  Bishop  Butler's  day 
would  scarcely  stoop  to  entertain  with  seriousness  the 
great  questions  of  our  Christian  faith,  has  since  then 
been  obliged  to  entertain  these  questions,  and,  with 
humbled  crest,  has  been  fairly  routed  from  the  field. 
Into  many  spheres  has  the  strife  been  carried,  and  in  many 
forms  of  assault  have  our  lines  been  tried  ;  but  always, 
and  at  every  point,  with  the  same  discomfiture  of  the  as- 
saulting host.  Tlie  Apologists  of  the  early  centuries  van- 
quished only  single  champions  of  error ;  now,  whole  bat- 
talions are  dissolving  before  the  breadth  and  vigor  of  our 
charge.  In  all  the  higher  walks  of  learning,  as  in  all 
the  better  walks  of  life,  room  has  been  made  for  Chris- 
tianity as  an  established  and  honored  fact.  So  that  the 
general  current  of  opinion  in  most  of  the  Christian 
countries  of  the  world  is  distinctly  Christian.  Amongst 
the  kingdoms  of  the  earth,  established  for  earthly  ends, 
there  stands  acknowledged  a  kingdom  of  truth  and  grace, 
which  is  destined  to  outlast  them  all.  That  would  be 
regarded  but  a  blind  philosophy  of  history,  which  should 
fail  to  make  the  person  of  Christ  the  centre  of  its  radi- 
ating lines.  And  that  would  be  regarded  but  a  chatter- 
ing and  impotent  philanthropy,  which  should  dream 
of  any  other  millennium  of  peace  and  righteousness  than 
the  one  promised  in  the  Scriptures. 


TRUE   KELIGION,    A    SKRVICE.  345 

Sucli,  we  say,  are  now  tlie  sentiments  of  wise  and 
tliouglitful  men.     Their  only  liope  for  the  world  is  in  the 
religion  of  Christ.     They  acknowledge  Him  as  the  only 
posSble  Kedeemer  of   a  stricken  and  suffering  race. 
And  how  many  may  be  resting  indolently  in  snch  a 
hope,  and  taking  credit  to  themselves  for  such  an  ac- 
knowledgment, making  Christian  opinions  a  substitute 
for  Christian  experience,  God  only  knows.     But  I  am 
afraid  there  are  many  such.     It  is  a  singular  device  of 
Satan,  this  of  making  the  sublimest  of  truths  an  opiate, 
rather  than  a  stimulant  to  the  human  will ;  a  singular 
delusion,  this  of  mistaking  the  assent  of  the  understand- 
ing for  the  renewal  of  the  heart;    the  sinful  human 
soul  calmly  measuring,  and,  it  may  be,  profoundly  ad- 
miring, the  redemptive  economy  of  the  Gospel,  without 
advancing  to  a  personal  acceptance  of  it ;  standing  by 
the  side  of  his  blessed  Bethesda  of  heavenly  grace  to 
applaud  Its  miracles  of  healing,  and  yet  never  stepping 
in.     We  speak  with  pride,  sometimes,  of  our  puissant 
Christendom,  so  industrious,  so  intelligent,  so  moral,  with 
its  ubiquitous  commerce,  its  adorning  arts,  its  halls  of 
learning,  its  happy  firesides,  and  its  noble  charities.    And 
yet,  what  is  our  vaunted  Christendom  but  a  vast  assem- 
blage of  believing  but  disobedient  men  ?     The  so-called 
Christian  nations,  in  what  one  of  them  all  is  there  more 
than  a  feeble  fraction  of  truly  regenerated  and  praying 
men?   Our  Christian  Sabbath  congregations  gathered  to 
hear  the  gospel,  in  which  of  them  are  not  the  real  followers 
uf  Christ  outnumbered  by  more  than  two  to  one  ?  Judged 
of  by  merely  outward  tokens,  Christianity  would  seem 
to  be  in  the  ascendant.     Imperial  edicts  no  longer  assail 
her  thickening  ranks,  the  proudest  philosophies  have 
gone  down  before  her  doctrines,  and  the  boundaries  of 
heathendom  are  steadily  retreating  wherever  she  plants 
her  invading  foot.     But  these  outward  tokens  are  de- 

15^ 


34:0  THE   NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

ceptive.  They  indicate  the  acceptance  of  Christianity  as 
an  opinion,  a  polity,  a  cnltnre,  while  they  fail  to  witness 
for  the  acceptance  of  it  as  an  inward,  spiritual,  renovat- 
ing force.  The  gospel-preacher,  stand  where  he  will, 
is  sure  of  a  respectful,  perhaps  an  applauding,  audience  ; 
but  the  chiefest  burden  of  his  message  is  not  regarded, 
and  the  chiefest  longing  of  his  heart  is  not  realized. 
The  cross  of  Christ  is  no  offence  to  the  understanding  of 
his  hearers,  but  their  pround  wills  are  not  bowed  before 
it.  He  faces  a  masked  battery  of  most  orthodox,  but 
most  resolute  impenitence. 

But  this  is  not  the  worst  of  it.  "Within  the  church 
itself,  obviously  enough,  there  are  many  persons,  with 
whom  belief  is  made  a  substitute  for  something  deeper 
and  better.  Of  such  preeminently  are  those  knights-er- 
rant of  orthodoxy,  who  ride  up  and  down,  vexing  the 
age  with  the  shibboleths  of  their  artificial  and  arbitrary 
creeds.  But  not  these  alone.  The  number  is  not 
small  of  such  as  are  unconsciously  lifting  the  dogma 
above  the  life.  The  intellect  arranges  for  itself,  in 
admirable  proportions,  the  whole  system  of  revealed 
truth,  propounds,  in  careful  statements,  its  doctrine  of 
Man,  its  doctrine  of  God,  its  doctrine  of  Kedemption, 
and  then  pauses  in  admiration  of  the  imposing  struc- 
ture, or  goes  about  to  praise  it  and  recommend  it,  mis- 
taking thought  for  feeling,  opinion  for  experience, 
doctrine  for  life.  The  glow  experienced  is  of  the  intel- 
lect. Sin,  indeed,  is  acknowledged  and  emphasized; 
the  throne  of  God  planted  firmly  upon  its  pillars  of 
righteousness,  overlooking,  without  a  stain  upon  it,  all 
this  weltering  chaos  of  human  evil ;  and  redemption  is 
hailed  as  the  wisdom  of  God,  mediating  sublimely  be- 
tween his  outraged  law  and  his  pitying  love.  All  this 
may  lie  in  clearest  vision  before  the  soul  without  stirring 
its  depths.     Sin  may  have  its  enormity  measured  in  spe- 


TRUE    RELIGION,    A    SERVICE.  347 

culation  without  being  bitterly  repented  of  and  forsaken. 
God  and  his  ways  may  be  justified  without  being  loved. 
The  plan  of  salvation  through  atoning  blood,  may  be 
saluted  as  a  grand  solution  of  a  stupendous  moral  prob- 
lem, without  being  made  the  stay  of  hope ;  welcomed 
as  a  relief  to  reason,  but  not  applied  as  a  healing  power 
to  the  wounded  heart.  Said  William  Law  to  John 
"Wesley :  "  The  head  can  as  easily  amuse  itself  with  a  liv- 
ing and  justifying  faith  in  the  blood  of  Jesus,  as  with 
any  other  notion."  It  is  even  so.  A  truer  word, 
pointed  in  warning  against  a  greater  peril,  was  never 
uttered.  The  mistake  in  question  is  a  very  subtle  one, 
but  very  serious,  and  more  common  than,  perhaps,  we 
think. 

As  thus  of  the  doctrines,  so  also  of  the  duties  of  our 
religion.  These  duties  may  be  objects  merely  of  belief, 
arrayed  in  well-ordered  systems,  and  acknowledged  to 
be  the  proper  code  of  life,  without  being  actually 
reduced  to  practice.  The  study  of  God's  word,  the 
keeping  of  holy  time,  prayer  and  praise,  a  clean  heart 
and  a  clean  life,  with  self-denying  exertions,  in  all 
feasible  and  hopeful  ways,  for  the  good  of  others,  may 
all  be  clearly  recognized  as  Christian  duties,  without 
being  discharged.  The  most  sacred  duty  may  thus 
decay  into  a  dogma,  asking  only  to  be  believed.  "I  go, 
sir,"  answered  the  son  in  the  parable,  "  but  went  not." 

n.  In  the  second  place,  let  us  be  warned  against 
making  our  religion  a  matter  merely  of  feeling. 

Of  this  also  there  is  danger.  In  the  life-time  of  our 
Redeemer,  as  we  have  seen,  there  were  those  who  not 
only  acknowledged  him  as  the  Messiah,  but  were  for- 
ward and  demonstrative  in  that  acknowledgment ;  and 
yet  were  no  true  disciples  of  his.  Right  in  doctrine, 
and  right,  apparently,  in  feeling,  still  they  knew  him 


3 is  THE   NEW   YORK   PULPIT. 

not,  nor  he  them.  Their  language  was  not  merely, 
Lord,  but  Lord,  Lord ;  and  yet,  after  all,  they  perished, 
neither  the  orthodoxy  of  their  belief  nor  the  seeming 
fervor  of  it,  availing  to  save  them. 

Yery  painful  it  is  to  think,  how  many  there  may  have 
been,  down  through  all  the  Christian  centuries,  who 
have  wholly  misjudged  in  regard  to  their  own  spiritual 
state.  Of  sheer,  deliberate  hypocrisy,  there  has  not 
been  so  very  much ;  certainly  not,  if  the  entire  course 
of  our  Christian  history  be  taken  into  the  account.  At 
times,  no  doubt,  hypocrisy  has  abounded,  as  under  des- 
potisms like  that  of  Theodosius,  which  have  adopted 
Christianity  as  the  religion  of  the  State,  making  the 
profession  of  it  indispensable  to  civil  office  and  emolu- 
ment, and  fencing  it  about  with  pains  and  penalties. 
But  here  with  us,  where  Church  and  State  are  as  utterly 
divorced  as  they  ever  can  be,  and  society  has  pledged 
itself  that  no  man  shall  be  challenged  for  his  faith,  there 
is  almost  no  motive  whatever  for  a  false  profession. 
We  have  neither  the  soil  nor  the  climate  for  so  noxious 
a  weed.  Now  and  then,  for  private  reasons,  religion 
may  be  counterfeited,  but  such  cases  are  extremely 
rare.  Most  of  those  amongst  us  who  belong  to  the 
church,  without  belonging  to  Christ,  are  the  victims  of 
self-deception.  Tliey  fondly  imagine  themselves  the 
subjects  of  a  work  of  grace,  which  has  never  been 
accomplished.  They  are  deceiving  others,  only  because 
they  have  first  deceived  themselves. 

There  may  be,  no  doubt,  what  passes  for  real  peni- 
tence, and  a  real 'joy  in  Christ,  but  wliich,  in  fact,  is 
wholly  a  delusion.  What  seems  to  be  a  godly  sorrow 
for  sin,  may  be  nothing  more  than  remorse ;  and  what 
seems  to  be  peace  and  joy  in  believing,  nothing  more 
than  the  selfish  exultation  of  the  soul  in  its  imagined 
deliverance  from  the  wrath  to  come.     The  peril  at  this 


TRUE   RELIGION,    A    SERVICE.  349 

point  is  prodigious,  liaving  its  root  and  nourishment  in 
our  sensitive  nature,  so  eager  and  clamorous  for  peace 
and  safety,  so  open  to  torture  from  the  apprehension  of 
coming  evil — a  peril  enhanced,  too,  it  may  be,  by  the 
very  endeavors  which  are  made  by  preachers  to  arrest 
the  attention  of  the  careless,  and  persuade  them  to  seek 
in  season  for  the  way  of  life.  If  selfishness  be  the  very 
essence  of  sin,  then  there  is  a  kind  of  inevitable  contra- 
diction between  saving  the  soul,  and  seeking  to  save  it. 
Only  he  that  loses  his  life  ever  finds  it.  Only  that  sor- 
row for  sin  is  genuine,  which  rises  above  ourselves,  and 
is  measured  by  that  infinite  majesty,  against  which  the 
sin  was  committed.  A  willingness  to  be  damned,  as  the 
only  suflicient  test  of  our  fitness  to  be  saved,  is,  indeed, 
a  monstrous  heresy,  which  I  cannot  think  of  indorsing ; 
and  yet  it  points  towards  one  of  the  profoundest  and 
most  precious  of  Christian  truths.  It  points  us  away 
from  ourselves  to  God,  and  summons  us  to  sink  all  our 
own  little  personal  solicitudes,  whether  for  time  or 
eternity,  in  the  bottomless  depth  of  an  awful  reverence 
and  love  for  his  authority  and  honor.  And  those  who 
know  nothing  of  this  experience,  who  are  conscious  only 
of  being  anxious  to  be  saved,  may  be  very  sure  that 
they  are  still  in  bondage  to  evil ;  the  seeming  repent- 
ance being  only  a  fear  of  penalty,  the  seeming  delight 
in  Christ,  only  gratitude  in  advance  for  expected 
benefits. 

But  even  the  truly  regenerate  are  not  wholly  free 
from  peril  in  this  matter.  There  are  different  types  of 
piety,  of  difi*erent  degrees  of  purity.  What  is  not  a  de- 
lusion, but  a  reality,  may  yet  be  vitiated.  Tlie  selfish 
element  may  intrude  and  poison  it.  Keligion  may  come 
to  be  looked  upon  too  much  as  a  round  or  series  of 
emotions,  and  the  proof  of  its  presence  sought  for  too 
exclusively  in  the  vividness  and  vigor  of  these  emotions. 


350  THE   NEW    YORK   PULPIT. 

The  soul,  instead  of  going  out  of  itself  after  Christ,  look- 
ing away  to  his  cross,  and  upwards  to  his  crown, 
searches  within  itself  for  the  warrant  of  its  hoj^es.  The 
very  phrase  so  current  amongst  us,  "an  experience  of 
religion,"  indicates  this  error.  The  w^ork  of  grace, 
which,  as  it  comes  from  God,  should  go  out  after  him, 
throbbing  with  a  divine  pulse,  sinks  down  and  termi- 
nates too  much  within  us.  We  make  it  a  thing  of  feel- 
ing, which,  from  its  very  nature,  may  be  delusive ;  or, 
if  genuine,  comparatively  meagre  and  fruitless.  There 
transpires  within  us  an  experience  which  is  named  re- 
pentance ;  another  which  goes  by  the  name  faith  ; 
another  which  is  known  as  hope,  while  over  all  there 
plays  the  wing  of  a  lightsome  joy.  And  if  these  expe- 
riences can  only  be  brought  to  pass  in  their  proper 
order  and  intensity,  the  soul  is  tempted  to  reckon  itself 
in  a  thriving  state.  The  first  beginning  of  these  expe- 
riences is  hailed  as  the  birth  of  grace,  and  every  subse- 
quent repetition  of  them,  with  sensibly  freshened  fervor, 
a  reviving  of  God's  work.  Thus  religion,  which  should 
be  a  solid  structure,  to  the  praise  of  divine  grace, 
becomes  an  unsubstantial  thing  of  inward  moods,  afloat 
upon  the  changeful  tide  within  us,  uplifted  or  depressed 
as  our  feelings  rise  or  ebb. 

In  our  own  country,  the  danger  of  mistake  in  this 
direction  is  great.  With  all  our  constitutional  shrewd- 
ness of  intellect,  and  homely,  practical  common  sense, 
we  are  yet  an  excitable  people.  Our  keen,  stimulating 
climate  ;  our  vast  continent,  provoking  to  boundless 
enterprise  ;  the  perpetual  fluctuations  of  our  social  life  ; 
the  very  constitution  of  our  government,  involving  such 
frequent  appeals  to  the  masses,  all  conspire  to  give  us  a 
character  not  unlike  that  of  the  old  Athenian  democ- 
racy, as  it  was  in  the  day  when  Paul  addressed  it  on  the 
Acropolis.     We  are  also  a  religious  people.     Tlie  infi- 


TRUE    RELIGION,    A    SERVICE.  351 

delity  of  France  was  offered  us,  but  refused  ;  as  we  shall 
also  refuse  the  infidelity  now  offered  us  by  Germany. 
That  we  are  Protestant  as  well  as  religious,  is  evinced 
by  the  multitude  of  sects  amongst  us,  more  than  fifty  in 
all.  And,  above  all,  this  has  been  preeminently  the 
land  of  revivals,  partly  the  product  and  partly  the 
cause  of  what  we  are.  These  revivals  have  been  the 
wonder  of  Europe ; — glorious  works  of  divine  grace,  as 
cannot  be  doubted,  and  yet  encouraging  a  type  of  piety 
which  has  its  defects  and  its  perils.  The  danger  has 
been,  and  is,  that  our  religious  life  may  be  dispropor- 
tionably  emotional,  running  up  into  fever  heats,  only  to 
run  down  into  ague  chills. 

This  piety  of  moods  and  feelings,  which  goes  by 
spasms,  and  not  by  the  even  pulses  of  a  robust  life,  is 
not  the  sort  of  piety  we  need,  my  hearers.  It  dislionors 
our  Master,  who  has  something  larger  to  do  for  us  than 
simply  to  make  us  happy  in  our  religion.  It  wi'ongs 
our  own  souls,  which  ought  to  be  looking  higher  than 
their  own  enjoyment.  It  defrauds  a  world  burdened 
with  woes,  and  perishing  for  lack  of  vision,  which  asks 
something  more  of  us  than  prayers  and  psalms. 

HE.  Finally,  let  us  be  moved  to  make  our  religion  a 
matter  of  the  life  ;  finding  the  test  and  measure  of  our 
discipleship,  neither  in  what  we  believe,  nor  in  what  we 
feel,  but  in  what  we  are,  as  announcing  itself  in  what 
we  do. 

IS'ot  that  we  counsel  the  disparagement  of  Christian 
doctrine.  We  do  not  forget  that  it  is  through  the  truth, 
though  not  by  it,  that  men  are  to  be  sanctified  and 
saved.  Christianity  is,  and  must  be,  doctrine,  or  it  can- 
not be  at  all.  There  must  be  religious  opinions,  more 
or  less  clearly  defined,  conditioning  the  religious  life ; 
and  the  more  clearly  defined,  the  better.     There  must 


352  THE   NEW    YORK   PULPIT. 

be  an  opinion  about  the  native  character  of  man ;  an 
opinion  about  the  person  and  work  of  Clirist ;  an  opinion 
about  tlie  ground  and  mode  of  our  acceptance  with  God. 
And  tlie  nearer  we  come  to  the  teachmgs  of  Scripture, 
as  interpreted  by  the  Christian  consciousness  of  tlie  suc- 
cessive generations  of  believers,  the  nearer  we  come  to 
those  grand  settlements  of  doctrine  effected  by  the  great 
expounders  of  doctrine,  as  Athanasius,  Augustine,  Lu- 
ther, Calvin,  and  Edwards,  the  nearer  shall  we  come  to 
the  hidings  of  Christian  power. 

ISTeither  would  we  disparage  religious  feeling.  The 
new  life  has  its  begiiming  in  feeling  ;  while  to  be  past 
feeling,  is  the  surest  mark  of  reprobation.  It  is  impos- 
sible for  a  man  to  be  convinced  of  sin  by  the  Spirit  of 
God,  without  being  profoundly  agitated.  An  accusing 
conscience  lashes  the  soul,  as  a  tempest  lashes  the  ocean. 
And  equally  impossible  is  it  to  find  relief  in  believing, 
without  a  fervid  gush  of  triumphant  and  grateful  emo- 
tion. A  religion  wholly  without  excitement,  would  be 
a  body  without  a  pulse,  a  sea  without  tides  or  winds,  a 
morning  without  sunlight  and  the  songs  of  birds. 

But  our  text,  while  it  slurs  neither  doctrine,  nor  feel- 
ing, points  us  beyond  them  to  the  life.  J^ot  every  one 
that  saitli  unto  Christ,  Lord ;  not  even  every  one  that 
saitli  unto  him,  Lord,  Lord;  but  only  he  that  serves 
him,  is  his  disciple  indeed.  Not  belief,  not  emotion, 
but  obedience,  is  the  test.  Mere  belief  would  make 
religion  a  mere  theology.  Mere  emotion  would  make  it 
a  mere  excitement.  While  the  true,  divine  idea  of  it,  is 
a  life,  begotten  of  grace  in  the  depths  of  the  human 
soul,  subduing  to  Christ  all  the  powers  of  the  soul,  and 
incarnating  itself  in  a  patient,  steady,  sturdy  service. 
In  short,  it  is  the  doing  of  the  .will  of  the  Fatlier,  which 
entitles  us  to  a  solid  assurance  of  our  redemption  by  the 
Son.     Doing  this  will,  we  say;   not  preaching  it,  as 


TRUE   RELIGION,    A   SERVICE.  353 

something  which  ought  to  be  done ;  not  indolently  sigh- 
ing to  do  it,  and  then  lamenting  that  we  do  it  not ;  but 
the  thing  itself',  in  actnal  achievement,  from  day  to  day, 
from  month  to  month,  from  year  to  year.  Thus  religion 
rises  on  us  in  its  own  imperial  majesty.  It  is  no  mere 
delight  of  the  understanding  in  the  doctrines  of  our 
faith ;  no  mere  excitement  of  the  sensibilities,  now  har- 
rowed by  fear,  and  now  jubilant  in  hope  ;  but  a  warfare 
and  a  work,  a  warfare  against  sin,  and  a  work  for  God. 
And  so  our  thoughts,  our  cares,  our  aims,  get  shifted 
away  from  ourselves  to  a  worthier  centre.  We  look  not 
within  ourselves,  but  above  us,  for  the  guiding  w^ord ; 
while  the  roots  of  our  Christian  hoj)e  are  nourished  more 
by  our  duties  than  our  joys.  Under  every  burden  of 
service,  in  every  weariness  of  marcliing,  in  every  peril 
of  battle,  as  shouted  the  old  Crusaders,  so  shout  we,  "It 
is  the  will  of  God." 

What,  then,  is  God's  will  ?  So  far  as  we  ourselves 
are  concerned,  this  is  the  will  of  God,  says  an  apostle, 
even  our  sanctification.  That  we  advance  in  holiness, 
subduing  our  sins ;  that  we  grow  every  day  more  pure, 
more  true,  more  fruitful,  more  like  Christ,  our  pattern — 
this  is  the  will  of  God  concerning  us.  It  is  the  making 
our  religion,  not  an  entertainment,  but  a  service.  We 
are  to  set  before  us  the  perfect  standard,  and  then  strug- 
gle to  shape  our  hves  to  it.  Personal  sanctity  must  be 
made  a  business  of.  Those  saints  of  the  middle  ages, 
like  Tauler  and  A'Kempis,  who  wrestled  so  hard  for 
holiness,  slaying  so  sternly  their  bosom  sins,  and  looking 
so  meekly,  yet  so  fixedly,  to  Christ,  may  well  be  invoked 
as  the  rebukers  of  our  sloth.  It  is  at  just  this  point  that 
the  piety  of  our  day  is  the  most  sadly  defective.  It  is 
not  sufficiently  inflamed  with  a  desire  after  sanctity.  It 
is  self-indulgent,  where  it  ought  to  be  self-denying ;  tol- 
erant of  impurities  and  infirmities,  of  which  it  ought  to 


354  THE   NEW   YORK   PULPIT. 

be  utterly  intolerant ;  cold  and  slack,  where  it  ought  to 
be  warm  and  diligent ;  asleep  over  faults  of  character, 
and  in  the  presence  of  spiritual  dangers,  which  ought  to 
awaken  a  godly  jealousy  and  a  godly  fear.  It  is  true, 
we  are  saved  by  hope ;  and  yet  it  is  equally  true,  that 
he  who  hath  this  hope  in  him  should  purify  himself,  as 
Christ  is  pure.  In  a  word,  it  is  character  that  is  required 
of  us ;  laid,  indeed,  in  grace,  and  imperfect,  at  the  best, 
needing  to  shelter  itself  behind  the  perfect  righteousness 
of  Christ,  and  yet  a  piece  of  solid  moral  masonry,  to  be 
carried  on,  and  carried  up,  by  a  life-long  toil.  And  this, 
too,  not  for  our  own  sake,  but  for  Christ's  sake,  and 
because  God  so  wills  it.  Our  own  spiritual  comfort, 
the  sure  fruit  of  a  careful  walk  with  God,  though  an 
incident,  is  not  to  be  the  end  of  our  endeavors ;  but  all 
we  do,  is  to  be  out  of  simple  loyalty  to  redeeming  love. 
Mere  obedience  to  conscience,  is  but  a  Pagan  virtue, 
which,  in  the  highest  sphere,  is  not  a  virtue  at  all. 
Yirtue,  for  us,  is  obedience  to  God  in  Christ.  Pains- 
taking, of  course,  it  will  be,  that  there  may  be  no  blot 
upon  the  life  ;  self-denying,  as  against  our  indolence,  our 
appetites,  and  our  passions ;  asking  only  for  duty,  though 
w^e  knew  it  were  asking  for  martyrdom;  and  all  for 
Christ.  Such  is  the  will  of  God  concerning  us;  and 
only  he  who  does  it  should  reckon  himself  a  child  of 
God. 

But  besides  this  resolute  endeavor  after  personal 
sanctity,  we  have  duties  also  towards  our  Christian 
brethren.  Tlie  Fellowship  of  the  Saints,  the  Church 
Catholic  on  earth,  under  whatever  names  or  forms,  as 
widely  reaching  as  Christendom  itself,  these  are  the  only 
permitted  boundaries  of  our  love.  Wheresoever  Christ 
has  gone  with  his  quickening  grace,  there  must  we  also 
follow  with  the  mantle  of  Christian  charity.  Tliey  who 
love  a  common  Lord,  must  love  each  other.     The  essen- 


TRUE   KELIGION,    A    SERVICE.  355 

tial  oneness  of  tlie  Cliurch  is  now  no  longer  visible. 
The  outward  communion  is  broken.  First,  the  Orient 
and  the  Occident  fell  apart,  eight  hundred  years  ago. 
Three  hundred  years  ago,  the  Occident  was  divided. 
And  since  then  the  sects  have  multiplied,  till  we  are 
almost  ashamed  to  number  them.  These  sects  proclaim, 
indeed,  not  the  decay,  but  the  vitality  and  the  growth 
of  our  Lord's  kingdom  ;  and  yet  its  ripest  life  is  in  that 
future  which  shall  restore  the  seamless  garment.  Mean- 
while, we  have  only  to  tax  our  charity  the  more  and 
give  it  an  impulse,  whicli  shall  force  it  over  the  dividing 
lines.  And  yet  each  one  of  us  must  be  loyal  to  his  own 
communion,  knitting  himself  the  closest  with  those  to 
whom  he  stands  the  nearest.  The  local  church,  with 
which  we  may  happen  to  be  connected,  has  special 
claims  upon  us.  We  owe  it  a  heavy  debt  of  service  ; 
not  on  the  Sabbath  only,  when  we  assemble  for  worship 
and  instruction,  but  in  all  its  humbler  gatherings  for 
prayer  and  praise,  and  in  all  the  channels  of  its  life. 

Nor  is  this  all.  The  will  of  God  concerning  us  has  a 
wider  sweep  even  than  the  church ;  it  embraces  the 
world.  This  world  lieth  in  wickedness  ;  only  one-fifth 
of  it  even  nominally  Christian,  all  the  rest  of  it  Heathen, 
Jewish,  Mohammedan,  in  need  of  Christ,  and  perishing 
because  it  knows  him  not.  There  is  more  between  us 
and  it  than  the  tie  of  a  common  human  brotherhood. 
This  scene  of  moral  ruin  is  the  inheritance  of  our  Lord, 
made  over  to  him  in  the  covenant  of  redemption.  For 
this  world  he  died,  making  an  atonement  sufiicient  for 
all  its  sins ;  and  over  it  he  bends  in  mercy  from  his 
throne  of  grace,  entreating  its  return  to  God.  This 
weaves  for  us  a  new  bond  of  relationship,  firmer  and 
more  sacred  than  that  of  a  common  descent  from  Adam, 

The  ministry  of  reconciliation,  commenced  by  our 
Lord  himself,  is  now  committed  to  his  followers.     They 


356  THE   NEW   YORK   PULPIT. 

are  now  liis  ambassadors,  as  he,  in  his  ministry,  was  the 
ambassador  of  God  the  Father.  There  is,  indeed,  a 
special  ministry  of  the  word,  beginning  with  the  Apos- 
tles, descending  from  them  to  us  who  are  now  preachers 
of  righteousness,  and  destined  to  endure  to  the  end  of 
time.  But  there  is  also  a  wider  ministry  of  the  universal 
brotherhood  of  believers.  Mere  discipleship  is  also,  in 
some  sort,  an  apostlesliip.  We  are  all  of  us  ambas- 
sadors of  Christ.  Just  so  soon  as  we  are  broiiglit,  by 
the  grace  of  God,  to  a  saving  knowledge  of  the  gospel, 
we  are  called  to  be  dispensers  of  it  to  others ;  taking 
first  those  who  are  nearest  to  us,  but  pausing  not  till  we 
have  touched  the  farthest  boundaries  of  the  globe.  The 
medieval  piety,  so  admirable  in  some  respects,  was 
defective  in  this,  that  it  did  no  more  for  a  dying  world. 
Tlie  Reformers  were  hindered,  by  the  abundance  and 
urgency  of  their  work  at  home,  from  undertaking  any 
service  upon  heathen  shores.  But  an  ardent  missionary 
zeal,  the  harbinger,  as  we  trust,  of  the  millennium,  is 
now  kindling  in  the  bosom  of  the  church.  And  the 
time  is  near  at  hand  when  not  a  soul  that  rejoices  in  a 
Christian  hope  will  be  excused,  or  will  wish  to  be  ex- 
cused, from  laboring  for  other  souls.  There  is  enough 
for  us  all  to  do.  Even  in  these  Christian  cities  there  is 
a  frightful  waste  of  heathenism,  weltering  at  our  very 
feet.  We  must  subdue  it  to  the  cross  of  Christ.  Over 
the  seas  are  millions  of  heathens,  darkening  the  conti- 
nents. To  them  also  must  we  send  the  light  of  life. 
Such  is  the  commandment  of  our  Lord.  Such  is  the 
service  laid  upon  us,  to  be  the  test  and  measure  of  our 
faith. 

I  have  thus  endeavored  as  plainly  as  possible  to  un- 
fold and  set  before  you,  my  hearers,  our  blessed  Lord's 
own  definition  of  a  true  discipleship.  At  any  time  the 
theme    would   be    important,   but  is    doubly    so  just 


TRUE   RELIGION,    A   SERVICE.  367 

now.  The  scenes  throngli  which  we  are  passing  are 
without  a  parallel  in  the  religious  history  of  our  coun- 
try, perhaps  we  may  say  without  a  parallel  in  the 
religious  history  of  the  world.  After  a  season  of  com- 
parative declension,  lasting  for  nearly  thirty  years, 
during  which  the  power  of  the  gospel  seemed  somehow 
to  be  strangely  hindered,  if  not,  as  infidelity  was  boast- 
ing, essentially  and  permanently  crippled,  all  at  once, 
with  a  suddenness  equalled  only  by  that  of  the  commer- 
cial disasters  which  went  before  it,  a  work  of  gospel  grace 
has  commenced  which  is  astonishing  the  world.  Spread- 
ing from  heart  to  heart,  it  has  covered  the  land,  leaping 
the  boundaries  of  States,  as  fire  leajDS  fences  upon  a  prai- 
rie. It  has  gone  out  uj)on  the  sea;  and  on  the  decks  of 
ships  sailing  homewards  from  distant  ports,  the  knees  of 
hardened  offenders  have  been  bowed  in  prayer.  It  has 
reached  hundreds,  if  not  thousands,  of  men  who  had 
not  previousl}^  been  reached  by  the  voice  of  any  human 
preaching.  The  work  is  marvellous  alike  in  its  origin, 
in  its  extent,  and  in  its  method.  By  many  tokens  we 
know  it  to  be  the  work,  not  of  man,  but  of  God.  "We 
may  be  mistaken,  but  it  now  appears  as  if  we  were 
crossing:  the  threshold  of  a  new  stadium  in  our  relimous 
history ;  as  if  the  world  was  about  to  be  laid  open, 
as  never  before,  to  the  regenerating  power  of  the 
gospel. 

But  the  occasion  has  its  embarrassments  and  its 
perils.  It  is  feared  by  many  that  the  work  now  in  pro- 
gress is  lacking  in  evangelical  depth,  and  is  markecl  by 
an  intensity  of  mere  emotional^  excitement,  which  is 
destined  to  be  followed  by  a  sad  relaj)se.  So  it  hap- 
pened in  our  country  a  little  more  than  a  hundred  years 
ago.  "Within  ten  years  after  the  Great  Awakening,  in 
1740,  as  described  by  Bellamy,  there  appeared  a  declen- 
sion as  remarkable  as  the  excitement  which  went  before 


358  THE   NEW   YORK   PULPIT. 

it.     A  similar  reaction,  tliongh  not  so  violent,  followed 
the  revival  of  thirty  years  ago. 

If  now  we  may  venture  to  hope  for  a  better  issue,  it 
must  be  on  the  basis  of  a  better  experience,  on  the 
basis  of  a  better  appreciation  of  the  real  genius  of  a  true 
discipleship.  We  must  have  the  gospel  pattern  of  piety 
held  up  before  us.  Our  religion  must  be  more  to  us 
than  a  mere  opinion,  more  than  a  mere  excitement  of 
feeling ;  it  must  be  a  resolute  and  manly  service.  Our 
w^hole  life,  from  its  inmost  feelings  to  its  outmost  ongo- 
ings, must  be  subdued  to  Christ.  Personal  sanctity, 
which  dreads  a  blot  upon  itself,  as  it  dreads  the  anger 
of  God;  love  for  the  church  of  Christ,  which  many 
waters  of  strife  cannot  quench,  nor  floods  drown  ;  with 
labors,  wise,  earnest,  self-denying  and  abundant,  for  the 
souls  of  perishing  men ;  all  these  must  we  lay  as  a 
cheerful  tribute  at  the  feet  of  the  King  of  kings. 


xxiy. 

THE    LIFE   BATTLE. 

BY  JESSE  T.  PECK,  D.D., 

Pastor  of  the  Greene  street  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  New  TorJe. 

Fight  the  good  fight  of  faith. — 1  Timothy  vi.  12. 

Peobation  is  a  battle — a  continuous  life-battle,  wliich 
terminates  only  in  deatli.  Some  there  are  wlio  do  not 
recognize  this  fact,  who  feel  and  act  as  if  no  conflict 
were  required  of  them,  simply  accepting,  as  the  rule  of 
their  lives,  their  own  impulses  and  the  suggestions  of 
their  enemies.  Some  who  know  the  fact  that  there  is  a 
life-battle,  yet  decline  the  strife,  and  fall  as  the  result  of 
their  own  passive  indolence,  or  of  unrecognized  secret 
alliance  with  their  own  foes.  Some  rush  into  the  fight 
with  no  adequate  idea  of  the  character,  number,  or 
power  of  their  foes,  with  no  adequate  preparation  to 
meet  them,  and  fall  ingloriously,  the  victims  of  their  own 
temerity.  But  there  are  others  who  recognize  and  accept 
the  conflicts  of  probation  with  a  heart  of  deep  humility, 
and  with  firm  reliance  upon  Almighty  Power.  They 
survey  well  the  field ;  they  measure  skillfully  the  dimen- 
sions of  every  foe ;  they  nobly  furnish  themselves  for 
the  contest ;  they  fight  the  battle  in  the  true  spirit  of 
heroism,  and  receive  at  last  the  victor's  crown  from  the 
hands  of  the  omniscient  Judge. 

859 


360  THE    NKW    YOEK    PULPIT. 

I.  Let  us  consider  the  pakties  and  the  strife. 

1.  The  spirits  hattle  with  the  hody. 

The  soul  has  a  contest  with  the  senses  of  the  body. 
They  are  too  limited  for  its  demands.  Tliey  examine 
surfaces,  but  the  soul  would  urge  them  to  penetrate  into 
the  centres  of  globes  and  systems.  They  look  upon 
developments,  but  the  soul  would  send  them  out  to  dis- 
cover agencies  producing  those  developments.  They 
look  upon  facts ;  the  soul  urges  them  to  find  laws,  in- 
cluding, and  governing,  and  using  those  facts.  They 
look  upon  eifects,  but  the  soul  insists  upon  tracing  those 
effects  to  their  primary  causes.  Hence  it  should  be 
stated,  generally,  that  man's  spirit-nature  is  not  satisfied 
with  the  perceptions  which  arise  naturally  out  of  the 
constitution  of  the  body  and  the  mind.  These  are  all 
circumscribed  ;  their  limits  are  too  narrow  for  the  soul's 
aspirations,  and  when  these  organs  of  sense  become  im- 
paired the  contest  is  still  greater,  the  dissatisfaction  is 
more  marked,  there  being  always,  within  the  living 
spirit,  an  earnest  desire,  and  struggle,  to  extend  the 
sphere,  and  stimulate  the  power  of  the  senses. 

But  the  contest  is  also  with  the  appetites  of  the  body. 
These  were  intended  for  the  preservation  of  life,  to  be 
the  means  of  repairing  the  wastes  of  the  body  in  its 
organic  forms  and  powers.  They,  nevertheless,  demand 
time  which  the  soul  feels  it  can  hardly  spare  for  their 
gratification.  It  is  often  difiicult  for  the  mind,  by  the 
exercise  of  its  reason,  of  its  skill,  of  its  energy  and  en- 
durance, to  make  the  provisions  which  they  require ;  so 
much  so,  that  even  in  the  ordinary  exercise  of  the  appe- 
tites, a  very  large  portion  of  the  soul's  probation  is 
devoted  to  the  preparation  of  material  to  supply  this 
demand.  Appetite,  in  its  artificial  action,  becomes  a 
more  decided  enemy  of  the  soul.  The  spirit-nature  is 
called  upon  to  surrender  its  reason,  to  lay  aside  interests 


THR    LIFE    BATTLE.  361 

of  tlie  liigliest  importance,  for  the  gratification  of  appe- 
tites, stimulated  by  fond  indulgence,  until  tlie  mind's  in- 
genuity, and  untiring  energies,  are  taxed  to  their  utmost 
to  gather  the  material  to  meet  the  wants  of  an 
appetite  which  is  not  in  accordance  with  the  designs  of 
the  Creator,  which  does  not  belong  to  the  original 
conformation  of  the  body ;  an  appetite  which,  having 
been  formed  by  art,  requires  the  most  artificial  means 
for  its  gratification. 

But  especially  in  the  most  morbid  condition  of  the 
appetites  does  the  spirit  find  a  strong  antagonism  to 
its  legitimate  exercise  and  its  appropriate  mission.  In 
this  form  the  appetites  rise  far  above  even  ordinary 
artificial  demands,  and  require  indulgence  at  the  ex- 
pense of  health,  of  moral  position,  of  moral  character ; 
at  the  expense  of  the  intellect,  of  personal  and  social 
condition,  of  the  dearest  hopes,  however  long  and  fondly 
cherished. 

The  soul,  in  the  meantime,  so  far  as  it  is  permitted 
to  have  legitimate  action,  and  understand  its  high 
destiny,  aspires  to  more  elevated  employment.  It 
demands,  in  opposition  to  a  morbid  appetite,  that 
the  purposes  of  life  shall  take  in  the  formation  of 
character,  the  correction  of  personal  and  social  evils, 
and  the  construction  of  a  wholesome  and  useful  future, 
with  a  wise  reference  to  an  eternal  state.  Who  that 
has  felt  the  risings  of  desire,  who  that  has  felt  the  strange 
spell  of  a  morbid  appetite,  and  yet  has  had  an  eye  open 
upon  the  devastations  which  such  appetites  have  pro- 
duced, and  upon  the  results  of  a  conquest  over  them, 
can  fail  to  recognize  the  confiicts  to  which  we  are  refer- 
ring, and  to  allow  that  the  spirit's  battle  with  the  appe- 
tites of  the  body  is  a  contest  of  exceeding  difiiculty; 
likely  to  be  long  protracted ;  a  contest  in  which  it  is 
the  right  of  the  soul  to  conquer  ? 

16 


362  THE   NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

We  must  also  recognize  the  spirit's  battle  mtli  tlie 
fixed  local  couditioii  of  the  body.  The  body  is  restricted 
to  a  very  narrow  sphere.  In  its  locomotion  it  can  pass 
over  only  a  small  portion  of  a  single  globe,  and  conse- 
quently of  itself  it  opi^oses  the  mind's  longings  for 
researches  in  fields  beyond  these  narrow  limits.  Hehl 
down  to  the  surface  of  earth  by  its  own  gravity,  the  body 
does  not  permit  the  soul  to  go  where  it  desires  to  go,  to 
examine  what  it  desires  to  examine,  to  realize  its  own 
enlargement,  and  gratification,  nd  usefulness,  within 
the  sphere  of  its  unfettered  pow  3,  in  the  vast  universe 
of  matter  and  of  mind. 

The  body  detains  the  soul  n  its  quest  of  truth. 
In  the  toils  to  which  the  min  is  adjusted,  the  labors 
which  belong  to  the  spirit's  nission  upon  this  earth, 
the  body  wearies  and  declines  to  obey  the  mandates 
of  the  soul;  the  soul  urges  it  forward  until  it  utterly 
refuses  to  advance,  and  Hes  down  to  its  slumbers.  If 
the  body  would  permit  it,  the  mind  would  presently 
visit  every  spot  upon  this  planet;  it  would  then  soar 
away  to  neighboring  orbs,  and  visit  distant  stars,  and 
explore  the  \ast  dominions  of  God.  K  it  were  allowed, 
it  would  enter  the  habitation  of  the  great  Jehovah,  and 
observe  the  manifestations  of  spirit-natures.  It  would 
gaze  upon  an  angel's  form,  and  listen  to  an  angel's  voice, 
and  know  the  sweetness  of  a  cherub's  smile,  and  hear 
the  glad  acclamations  of  ransomed  ones  in  the  world 
inhabited  only  by  spirits  and  resurrection  bodies.  If 
there  were  no  detention  by  this  gross  material  body, 
mind  would  soon  behold  what  are  the  manifestations  to 
the  spirit-eye  of  the  Triune  Deity ;  in  what  way  the 
Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost  reveal  their  unity  and 
their  trinif  and  in  what  manner  the  triune  God  main- 
tains an  '  initely  perfect  government  in  such  unity  as 
perfect       iness  alone  can  render  possible,  and  yet  in 


THB   LIFE   BATTLE.  363 

such  distinctuess  of  relations  as  the  great  acts  of  redemp- 
tion require,  as  are  adapted  to  the  advancement  of  the 
minds  redeemed  by  the  blood  of  Christ,  in  personal 
excellence,  until  they  realize  the  end  for  which  they 
were  created. 

All  this  would  the  mind  discover,  but  the  body  holds 
it  here,  and  thus  restricts  its  sphere  of  investigation. 

2.  Let  us  refer  to  the  s])irifs  hattle  with  itself. 

This  contest  is,  first,  with  ignorance.  Tlie  soul  is  fur- 
nished by  the  Creator  with  the  beginnings  of  knowledge. 
It  has  conceptions,  however,  of  fields  unexplored.  There 
are  truths  that  are  infinite  in  nature,  in  the  works  of 
God,  but  the  ignorance  of  the  sonl  hides  those  truths 
from  its  own  vision.  Every  attempt  to  study  natural 
laws,  to  master  the  principles  of  natural  science,  is  the 
spirit's  battle  with  its  own  ignorance.  How  formidable 
the  contest  is,  none  but  the  thorough  student  and  the 
wise  scholar  can  properly  understand. 

There  are  truths  of  exceeding  interest  in  the  sonl 
itself;  in  its  laws  of  existence,  its  laws  of  thought,  its 
laws  of  passionj  its  laws  of  purpose ;  and  these  truths  are 
objects  of  special  consideration.  How  profound,  how- 
ever, is  the  ignorance  of  the  soul,  with  regard  to 
these  laws!  and  what  weary  hours  and  years  of 
study  are  required  to  identify  and  define  even  those 
which  seem  most  superficial  and  easy  of  comprehension ! 

There  are  truths  of  vast  importance  in  the  structure, 
relations,  and  power  of  languages;  in  the  exact,  sci- 
ences ;  in  the  philosophy  of  being ;  in  the  spiritual 
natures  that  move  about  us  unseen ;  in  the  character 
of  the  great  God.  With  what  pleasure  do  we  gaze 
upon  any  of  these  truths  when  they  are  first  introduced 
to  our  notice,  when  our  industry  or  our  perseverance 
uncovers  them ;  and  how  constantly  increasing  is  the 
conviction,  that  there  are  yet  infinite  fields  of  truth  in 


364  THE    NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

the  scientific  world  of  which  the  best  scholar  has  no  dis- 
tinct conception. 

All  the  public  schools,  all  the  academic  institu- 
tions, all  the  colleges  and  universities,  all  the  toils 
of  professors,  all  the  struggles  of  an  enlightened  phi- 
lanthropy, and  of  an  elevated  civilization,  in  the  de- 
partment of  education,  are  so  many  battles  with  the 
ignorance  of  the  soul — are  the  methods  in  which  the 
soul  carries  on  its  contest  with  this  formidable  foe. 
"Whatever  is  brought  to  the  notice  of  the  mind  with 
regard  to  moral  obligations,  either  in  the  world  of  ethics 
or  of  theology,  enters  into  this  life-struggle  with  igno- 
rance. Every  sermon,  every  lecture,  every  product  of 
the  press,  uj)on  whatever  theme,  is  an  effort  to  triumph 
over  this  enemy  of  human  happiness ;  and  the  part 
which  for  his  own  imj^rovement  each  man  takes  in  any 
of  these  general  exertions,  is  so  far  a  battle  with  him- 
self. 

Again ;  let  me  ask  your  attention  to  the  spirit's  bat- 
tle with  its  own  dullness.  The  soul  as  well  as  the  body 
tires  in  its  investigations  of  truth,  in  its  attempts  to  dis- 
cover great  and  fundamental  principles  and  practical 
laws,  which  are  operating  ujjon  the  individual  life  and 
social  order  everywhere  around  us.  Exhausted  in  its 
toils,  it  refuses  to  j)ress  on  to  the  apprehension  of  truths 
which  seem  to  be  just  at  hand.  Every  student,  every 
scholar,  every  thinking  man,  knows  what  I  mean  when  I 
suggest,  that  there  are  often  glim2:»ses  of  truths,  rich  in 
beauty  and  high  in  interest,  which  seem  to  be  just  at 
hand ;  and  as  the  soul  longs  and  resolves  to  grasp  them, 
it  finds  uj)on  trial  that  it  wants  clearness  of  perception 
and  force  of  thought  sufficient  for  the  achievement.  It 
renews  the  struggle  again  and  again,  only  to  feel  that 
the  tinners  which  it  desires  to  know  it  does  not  know 
and  perhaps  never  will  know.     Not  imfrequently  the 


THE    LIFE    BATTLE.  365 

searcli  is  commenced  and  carried  on  from  early  morn- 
ing, in  earnest,  deep,  and  candid  tlionglit,  to  bring  out 
some  important  princi]3le  or  law  that  governs  tlie  physi- 
cal or  metaphysical  world,  or  the  social  state,  or  that 
relates  to  the  harmony  of  spirit-natures,  and  to  the 
accomplishment  of  man's  mission  here ;  and  the  day 
wears  away,  and  the  delving  mind,  when  it  has  gone  to 
the  extent  of  its  powers,  finds  itself  still  dealing  only 
with  the  conditions  of  those  grand  discoveries.  The 
midnight  hour  comes  on  while  yet  only  partial  manifes- 
tations of  the  truth  are  before  the  inquiring  intellect; 
and  the  man  of  thought  throws  himself  down  weary  to 
repose,  because  his  energies  are  exhausted. 

How  strange  this  contest  with  the  dullness  of  the  soul, 
with  its  fatigued  and  worn  condition  !  How  many  have 
said  :  "  Oh,  that  I  could  rouse  myself  for  another  contest ; 
oh,  that  I  could  command  clearness  of  thought  and 
energy  of  application  for  another  hour.  K  my  mind 
could  but  be  reinvigorated  and  I  could  enter  once  more 
into  the  conflict,  I  could  bring  out  the  pure  sparkling 
tmth  that  is  almost  within  my  reach,  and  gather  from 
the  world  of  thought  and  principles  before  me  one  glo- 
rious, enduring  structure,  that  the  eyes  of  souls  would 
gaze  upon  with  admiration  forever."  However  grand 
the  achievements  of  the  consecrated  intellect,  its 
hours  of  strength  and  its  life  in  the  body  are  too  short 
for  the  triumphs  to  which  it  aspires. 

But  the  principal  contest  of  the  s]Dirit  with  itself  is 
with  its  depravity.  To  express  the  truth  in  the  plainest 
manner,  there  challenges  now  your  consideration  that 
strange  and  all-pervading  fact,  that  man  in  character 
and  action  is  a  sinner,  and  that  sin  exists  in  the  form 
of  depravity — depravity  of  character  and  action — depra- 
vity that  pervades  the  world,  and,  instead  of  permitting 
men's  passions   to  become   sources   of  pure    impulses 


oGG  THE    NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

renders  them  morbid  and  vicions,  so  tliat  they  seek  not 
their  pleasure  in  legitimate  objects,  but  rather  in  those 
forbidden  ;  stimulating  their  desires  until  they  overleap 
the  bounds  of  health  and  decency,  and  exact  for  their 
gratification  the  honor  of  others,  and,  under  the  control 
of  deeply  vitiated  emotions  and  desires,  reaching  into 
the  rightful  sphere,  and  attacking  the  prerogatives  of 
others,  they  bear  down  with  them  for  the  gratification 
of  the  hour,  the  lovely,  the  brilliant,  and  the  great,  and 
crush  the  dearest  and  purest  hopes  of  humanity. 

Such  is  the  condition  of  men's  passions,  such  the 
results  of  depravity  as  it  naturally  develops  itself  in  the 
fallen  soul — a  depravity  that  controls  the  natural  and 
moral  sensibilities  of  men,  that  takes  hold  of  the  con- 
science and  passes  up  into  the  dominion  of  the  intellect, 
and  darkens  what  would  otherwise  be  clear,  and  para- 
lyzes what  would  otherwise  be  powerful  in  the  conflicts 
of  life — a  depravity  which,  in  its  perpetual  increase, 
allows  no  decision  of  the  will  to  be  a  decision  of  true 
interest,  governed  by  the  true  relations  of  the  individual 
according  to  the  plans  and  purposes  of  God — a  depra- 
vity that  expresses  itself  in  language,  that  speaks  in  the 
eye,  that  comes  out  in  the  flush  upon  the  cheek,  that 
indicates  itself  in  the  dissoluteness  of  a  corrupted  mind, 
and  that  reveals  itself  in  disregard  of  law,  in  disregard 
of  social  public  rights,  that  gnaws  at  the  very  vitals  of 
human  happiness. 

Now,  tell  me,  what  is  to  be  done  with  such  a  depraved 
condition  and  depraved  action  of  a  moral  and  immortal 
nature.  The  spirit  was  not  formed  for  such  a  sphere  of 
thought,  and  feeling,  and  action,  but  for  a  higher,  purer, 
nobler  realm  of  enjoyment  and  usefulness,,  a  brighter 
world  of  purity  and  love,  of  spiritual  labor  and  delight. 
There  must  be  a  contest  with  this  depravity.  Resist- 
ance to  it  is  one  of  the  first  laws  of  self-preservation. 


THE   LIFE   BATTLE.  367 

Eesistance  to  this  unnatural  demand  becomes  the  law 
of  honor  to  a  gentleman,  the  law  of  purity  to  society — 
becomes  the  law  of  social  health  and  social  development, 
the  safeguard  of  man  in  his  march  to  eternity. 

See  now,  when  the  soul  is  prompted  to  sj^iritual  exer- 
cises, how  its  de2)ravity  drags  it  down  to  earth  ;  when  it 
has  gracious  aspirations  for  virtue,  how  they  are  antago- 
nized by  inward  propensities  to  vice  ;  how  the  soul  is  de- 
graded to  the  worship  of  the  creature  instead  of  the  Crea- 
tor !  Even  when  all  the  convictions  are  for  the  right, 
the  depravity  of  the  soul  is  against  it — sternly  and  per- 
sistently against  it.  Long  and  fearful  is  this  conflict ; 
painful  doubts  attend  it  every  hour  until  the  victory  is 
achieved  through  evangelical  power. 

One  item  more  in  this  part  of  the  discussion.  I  ask 
you  to  examine  the  spirit's  battle  with  its  acquired 
infidelity — I  say  acquired  infidelity,  because  it  does  not 
belong  to  the  original  constitution  of  mind  to  disbelieve 
the  truth  of  God  or  to  reject  the  scheme  of  divine 
redemption.  Truth  was  made  for  the  soul  and  the  soul 
for  truth,  as  light  for  the  eye  and  the  eye  for  light, 
as  the  atmospheric  air  for  the  lungs  and  the  lungs  for 
the  air.  But  the  depravity  which  rules  the  heart  of 
man  contests  the  right  of  God  to  rule  this  lower  world, 
afi'ects  to  dictate  truth  to  itself,  and  disdains  the  holy 
truth  of  God,  until  at  last  the  visions  of  the  real  become 
obscured  in  the  visions  of  the  ideal,  and  the  book  of 
inspiration  comes  to  be  of  less  importance,  and,  finally, 
less  certain  than  the  records  of  uninspired  pens  and  the 
blasphemous  ravings  of  arrant  hypocrites  and  con- 
temptible fools.  Unbelief  is  at  once  the  soul's  enemy 
and  its  crime,  and  long  is  the  conflict  which  it  wages 
with  Jesus  Christ  and  with  the  holy  and  lofty  claims  of 
truth  and  immortality. 


368  THE   NEW   YORK   PULPIT. 

3.  We  must  now  speak  of  the  sjpirifs  hattle  with  out- 
wardfoes. 

Briefly  let  me  suggest  to  you  that  tliere  is  a  battle 
with  intractable  matter.  It  is  not  in  the  form  nor  in 
the  place  in  which  the  soul  desires  it.  It  is  wanted  in 
the  form  of  houses,  and  of  bread,  and  of  clothes.  All  the 
vast  business  arrangements  of  the  world  are  so  many 
battles  with  gross  matter ;  the  attempts  of  the  soul  to 
mould  it  so  that  it  may  serve  its  purj)oses.  All  the  com- 
merce of  the  world  is  a  continuous  battle  with  matter ;  an 
attempt  to  conquer  its  inertia,  to  take  it  where  it  can 
serve  the  convenience  of  man  and  the  ends  of  a  higher 
civilization ;  agriculture  and  manufacture,  railroads, 
navigation,  and  mail  routes,  are  all  spirit-battles  with 
stubborn  matter. 

I  only  glance  at  this,  but  must  dwell  a  little  upon  the 
soul's  battle  with  other  minds. 

Suppose  the  contest  to  be  for  reputation.  ISTow 
there  is  a  battle  with  unfair,  uncandid  rivalry,  with 
slander  and  injustice,  there  is  competition  with  those 
various  methods  in  which  vicious  minds  aspire  to  raise 
themselves  up  by  dragging  others  down. 

If  it  be  a  battle  for  place,  then  there  is  the  dishonesty  of 
the  reckless  politician  and  the  want  of  just  discrimination 
upon  the  part  of  constituencies ;  there  is  the  power  of 
bribery  which  undermines  the  ballot-box,  the  palla- 
dium of  liberty,  or  perverts  justice  in  her  sacred  halls. 
How  many  minds  of  aspiring  virtue  and  noble  ambi- 
tion, born  to  shine  with  brilliancy  in  the  galaxy  of 
intellect  and  fame,  cruelly  defeated  and  crushed,  have 
been  hurled  from  their  position  by  the  hand  of  guilty 
treachery,  or  brutal  violence. 

The  battle  for  success  is  not  unfrequently  with  pover- 
ty and  obscurity  of  birth.  Minds  springing  up  from 
the  lower  stratum  of  society,  and  rising  in  the  majesty 


THE    LIFE    BATTLE.  369 

of  conscious  power  to  grapple  with  formidable  foes,  find 
obscurity  of  origin,  and  stern  povei'ty  and  cruel  preju- 
dice, pressing  hard  upon  them  at  every  step.  But  here 
is  the  field  of  noble  daring  and  of  chivalrous  Christian 
heroism.  Here  struggling,  generous,  enduring  mind 
becomes  to  me  the  sublimest  spectacle  on  earth. 

A  young  man,  with  no  ancestral  renown,  or  embla- 
zoned heraldry,  to  bribe  the  criticism  of  a  censorious 
world,  or  win  the  smiles  of  soulless  villains,  with  no 
cringing  cowardice  or  fear,  shrinking  from  the  exactions 
of  patrons  or  tyrants,  firm  in  conscious  rectitude,  and 
roused  by  a  sense  of  cruel  injustice,  reposing  with  pro- 
found humility  and  noble  dignity  upon  the  might  of 
Jehovah,  moving  calmly  out  into  the  battle  of  life,  is  an 
object  of  admiring  interest  to  men  and  angels  and  God. 
You  will  say,  and  say  truly,  that  there  is  sublimity  in  the 
towering  mountain,  in  the  rushing  cataract,  in  the  roll- 
ing thunder  and  the  rumbling  earthquake.  But  I  point 
you  to  the  young  man,  rising  up  from  obscurity  with  a 
cool,  clear  intellect,  with  a  brave  heart,  with  steady 
nerves  and  a  clear  eye,  a  victor  over  his  own  passions, 
allying  himself  with  the  power  of  the  Almighty,  control- 
ling the  elements,  grappling  with  the  foes  of  God  and 
man,  dashing  to  the  ground  the  noisy  pretenders  that  ob- 
struct the  way  to  fame,  gracefully  lifting  up,  and  sustain- 
ing the  feeble  and  deserving,  formidable  to  vice  in  high 
places,  nobly  achieving  the  purposes  of  man's  proba- 
tion ;  I  point  you  to  tliis  as  an  instance  of  the  sublime, 
surpassing  all  others. 

But  I  must  call  your  attention  to  the  battle  of  the 
spirit  with  satanic  agencies.  There  is  a  Master  of  sin 
and  sinners,  under  whose  influence  depravity  becomes 
more  deeply  depraved,  and  Aell  itself  becomes  more 
intensely  hell.  That  satanic  power  is  everywhere 
active,  injecting  evil  thoughts  into  the  minds  of  men, 

16^ 


370  THE   NEW    YORK   PULPIT. 

and  stirring  up  vile  passions,  striving  with  tlie  utmost 
malignity  to  break  clown  all  virtue,  to  frustrate  the 
plans  of  God,  to  destroy  whatever  is  fair  and  lovely  in 
the  condition  and  prospects  of  the  race.  The  spirit's 
battle  with  this  arch-fiend  and  his  subordinates,  is  truly 
a  life  battle,  and  woe  to  the  man  who  attempts  it  in  his 
own  strength. 

Finally,  to  understand  this  contest,  it  must  be  viewed 
upon  an  extended  scale.  You  must  see  it  as  it  passes 
beyond  the  sphere  of  individual  life,  and  involves  the 
grand,  benevolent  purposes  of  God  to  man. 

And  now,  if  you  look  out  upon  the  world,  you  shall 
see  a  battle  going  on  this  hour  between  God  and  all 
good  men  and  angels,  on  the  one  hand,  seeking  to  res- 
cue the  victims  of  vice  and  of  folly,  to  give  position  and 
power  among  men  to  all  good  principles  and  agencies ; 
and  all  demons  and  bad  men  on  the  other ;  seeking, 
by  all  means  possible,  to  increase  the  malignity  of  sin 
and  to  drag  away  immortal  souls  to  the  bottomless  pit. 
Here  are  the  parties  and  the  strife.  The  whole  earth  is 
a  battle-field.  Every  pulj)it,  every  Christian  altar,  every 
prayer-meeting,  every  tract,  and  Sunday-school,  and 
missionary  society  becomes  a  battle-scene.  See  how  the 
contest  rises  in  sublimity  and  power  as  the  grand  forces 
of  three  worlds  are  brought  into  collision,  where  the 
efforts  of  ages  are  concentrated  to  rescue  and  save  what 
is  noble  and  immortal  in  man.  This  is  a  contest  fraught 
with  interests  which  no  human  eye  can  see,  and  no  finite 
powers  comprehend. 

And  you  are  a  party  in  this  magnificent  strife.  We 
entreat  you,  do  not  dishonor  your  immortal  powers,  and 
yield  the  victory  to  your  guilty  foes.  Under  God, 
through  the  grace  of  the  Redeemer,  your  life,  your  hap- 
piness, your  all,  for  time  and  eternity,  depend  upon  your 
personal  bearing  in  the  conflict. 


THK    LIFE   BATTLE.  371 

n. — Let  us  consider  the  victory  and  the  awards. 

1.  They  have  their  Conditions. 

It  is  likely  that,  in  any  contest,  advantage  will 
appear  on  tlie  one  side  or  tlie  other.  It  is  interesting  to 
inquire,  in  behalf  of  the  high  contending  parties,  what 
are  the  terms  of  the  fight,  what  are  the  conditions  upon 
which  the  victory  will  depend  ? 

First,  we  remark,  that  the  victory  in  this  contest  de- 
pends upon  the  right.  There  is  a  difference  between  the 
spiritual  contests  to  which  we  now  refer,  and  the  physical 
battles  of  the  world.  It  must  be  admitted  that  these 
sometimes  depend  upon  might  rather  than  right ;  upon 
physical  power,  upon  skill  in  generalship,  upon  the  suc- 
cess of  tactics,  upon  the  proportion  of  numbers,  and  upon 
numerous  circumstances  which  have  nothing  to  do  with 
the  right.  I  said  sometimes^  because  I  wish  to  admit  it 
with  the  qualification  that  even  in  these  collisions  there 
can  be  no  estimate  of  probabilities  as  to  the  final  con- 
quest without  regard  to  Providence,  without  the  recog- 
nition of  the  Divine  interference.  I  observe  that  in 
comprehensive  views,  the  evidences  of  a  God  in  history 
are  marked  and  decisive,  and  if  it  be  allowed  that  the 
contest  between  contending  armies  sometimes  turns 
upon  the  physical  power,  or  energy,  or  tactics  of  the 
contending  parties,  irrespective  of  the  right,  it  must  yet 
be  allowed  upon  a  general  scale,  in  the  j)erpetual  revolu- 
tions of  human  affairs  going  onward  under  the  super- 
vision of  a  merciful  Providence,  there  is  a  guardianship 
over  the  right,  there  is  a  vindication  of  justice,  there 
is  an  exhibition  of  the  interference  of  God  in  the 
management  of  human  affairs,  which  will  go  far  to  sus- 
tain the  general  truth — that  the  right,  upon  the  whole,  is 
sure  to  triumph.  But  whatever  may  be  the  facts  of 
physical  collisions,  the  effects  or  results  in  the  battles  of 
nations,  there  can  be  no  question  with  regard  to  the  greai 


372  THE    NKW    Yf)RK    PULPIT. 

moral  and  spiritual  conflicts  between  the  powers  of  dark- 
ness and  light.  He  who  contends  for  the  right  is  victor 
if  he  fall.  If  his  body  perish,  his  soul  is  immortal ;  if  his 
life  is  sacrificed,  his  principles  endure ;  if  he  passes  out 
of  sight,  the  achievements  of  his  mind  and  his  efforts 
come  out  before  the  ejes  of  men,  and  he  himself  is  the 
responsible  agent  in  history,  and  the  vindicated  party 
upon  the  principles  of  unalterable  rectitude. 

Therefore,  whoever  contends  against  the  appetites  of 
the  body  in  their  morbid  action  ;  against  the  ignorance, 
and  especially  the  spiritual  ignorance,  of  the  soul ; 
against  the  natural  dullness  of  the  soul;  against  the 
depravity  of  the  soul ;  he  who  fights  "  the  prince  of  the 
power  of  the  air,  the  spirit  that  now  w^orketh  in  the 
children  of  disobedience,"  arrays  himself  upon  the  side 
of  God,  and  God  is  always  right ;  arrays  himself  upon 
the  side  of  revelation,  and  revelation  is  always  right ; 
arrays  himself  upon  the  side  of  the  atonement,  and  of  the 
intercessions  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  Jesus  Christ  is  always 
right ;  arrays  himself  with  good  men,  with  holy  angels, 
with  the  purest  principles  that  ever  entered  the  intelli- 
gence or  grappled  with  the  depravity  of  man,  with  the 
most  exalted  powers  that  ever  sought  to  elevate  man, 
and  holiness  and  justice  are  always  right.  How  can 
he  fail  to  be  a  victor  whose  principles  and  only 
essential  interests  are  not  involved  in  the  catastro- 
yhe  of  the  battle,  and  who,  from  the  very  necessities 
of  his  being,  survives  the  death  of  the  body,  the  decom- 
position of  physical  organisms,  and  the  power  of  his 
mortal  and  immortal  foes,  and  despite  them  all  rises  in 
the  true  sphere  of  a  spiritual  existence  with  reinvigo- 
rated  life,  prepared  to  glorify  God  forever  ? 

Again,  1  claim  that  the  •onquests  of  this  battle  will 
have  something  to  do  with  mental  characteristics.  It  is 
not  to  be  overlooked  in  estimating  the  various  conflicts 


THE    LIFE   BATTLE.  373 

to  which  we  have  referred,  that  some  minds  are  consti- 
tutionally better  adapted  to  their  severe  trials  than 
others,  and  that  inequalities  of  power  will  produce  a 
corresponding  diversity  of  results  in  the  characteristics 
of  the  conquests,  and  a  corresponding  gradation  in  the 
awards.  They  who  fight  manfully  under  severe  trials 
are  unquestionably  strengthened  in  virtue,  and  are  des- 
tined to  high  consideration  in  the  awards  that  are  to 
be  granted  to  the  victors  in  this  life-battle. 

In  the  contest  with  astute,  scheming  foes,  true  in- 
stinct to  detect  the  character  of  those  foes,  to  anticipate 
the  time  of  their  attack,  to  judge  well  of  their  power, 
and  to  seize  without  effort  the  means  of  resistance,  will 
modify  the  characteristics  of  the  battle.  If  there  be  a 
gifted  reason  to  estimate  probabilities,  a  keen  insight 
into  character,  a  power  to  calculate  the  strength  of 
moral  forces  as  they  come  upon  the  arena  of  strife,  and 
seize  upon  even  adverse  circumstances  and  convert 
them  into  means  and  resources  of  success,  there  will  be, 
even  under  the  same  conditions  of  grace,  a  correspond- 
ing probability  of  a  loftier  triumph  and  a  higher  eleva- 
tion of  the  victor.  A  cool  judgment  under  critical  con- 
ditions, power  to  conduct  an  argument,  to  a  clear  and 
safe  conclusion,  in  the  midst  of  excitement  and  peril, 
ability  to  mould  men  and  circumstances,  to  grapple 
with  the  perverse  elements  of  human  character,  rise 
superior  to  them,  and  press  them  into  the  service  of 
truth  and  virtue,  must  enter  into  the  conditions  of  the 
contest,  and  have  much  to  do  in  determining  both  the 
victory  and  the  awards. 

But  it  should  be  particularly  noted  in  the  next  j)lace, 
that  this  is  more  than  anything  else  a  faith-battle.  My 
text  says,  ''  Fight  the  good  fight  of  faith."  Faith  is  the 
grand  controlling  power  upon  wliicli  all  other  conditions 
of  success  depend.     ' '  This  is  the  victory  that  overcometh 


374  THE   NEW   YORK   PULPIT. 

the  world,  even  our  faith  ;"  and  when  you  consider  the 
relations  of  faith  to  the  parties  concerned  in  this  contest 
you  will  see  how  it  is,  that  it  should  be  a  governing  and 
decisive  element,  that  it  should  lead  inevitably  to 
results  of  commanding  importance. 

You  will  see  that  faith  implies  an  alliance  of  the 
contending  power  with  the  infinite  strength  of  the 
Almighty.  I  can  permit  you  to  assume  for  the  mo- 
ment, that  this  is  a  question  of  relative  physical  or 
metaphysical  force,  and  you  at  once  perceive  that  he 
who  casts  himself  upon  the  arm  of  God  wields  a  power 
to  which  there  can  be  no  limits.  He  may  implicitly 
rely  upon  this  power  to  guard  him  in  the  right.  The 
Almighty  mind  will  energize  him  in  the  contest,  and  the 
indestructible  agencies  which  God  has  furnished,  will, 
through  faith,  be  available  in  every  emergency.  Faith 
takes  the  man  out  of  himself,  renounces  forever  the  idea 
of  self-support  in  the  contests  which  are  raging,  and 
rolls  the  burden  of  the  battle  upon  God. 

This  is  most  reasonable,  for  the  earnest  Christian  is 
fearfully  engaged  with  the  enemies  of  God :  but  he  is 
God's  own  child  ;  and  it  is  right  that  the  helpless  child 
rihoiil'l  apply  to  the  father  for  protection.  He  is  out 
upon  God's  mission  ;  the  contest  is  expressly  for  carry- 
ing out  the  plans  and  purposes  of  God ;  it  is  therefore 
but  reasonable  that  the  missionary  should  rely  'upon  the 
support  of  the  power  that  sends  him.  He  fights  for 
principles  that  ar6  dear  to  God ;  and  it  is  the  highest 
propriety  that  he  should  depend  upon  the  protecting 
hand  of  the  Being  from  whom  these  principles  arise, 
and  whose  they  are.  He  fights  to  rescue  his  brethren 
from  peril,  those  who  are  God's  own  children,  and  who 
are  allied  to  him  by  the  tenderest  relations ;  and  he 
fights  on  the  side  of  God,  and  against  those  who  oppress 
the  weak,  the  poor,  and  the  helpless ;   and  the   great 


THE   LIFE   BATTLE.  375 

Jeliovali  is  the  sworn  friend  of  tlie  weak,  the  jDoor,  and 
the  helpless.  Whatever,  therefore,  may  be  the  perils  of 
the  conflict,  you  wdll  j)erceive  that  those  who  "fight  the 
good  fight  of  faith"  are  nnder  the  protection  of  God, 
who  has  munificently  pledged  divine  power  to  defend 
the  right,  and  secure  its  final  triumph. 

I  beg  you  to  consider,  however,  that  this  is  not 
merely  a  question  of  relative  personal  prowess,  but 
rather  of  available  spiritual  power  under  evangelical 
laws  ;  and  living  faith,  firm  trust  in  God,  is  the  grand 
condition  upon  which  divine  agency  can  cooj^erate 
with  the  individual  in  this  contest,  so  as  to  secure  in- 
evitable success.  He  who  goes  into  the  battle  by  God's 
own  order  is  required  so  to  believe  as  to  avail  himself 
of  God's  own  strength.  JSTo  marvel,  therefore,  that 
"  signs  and  wonders  follow  them  that  believe."  Faith 
in  Christ  secures  the  justification  of  the  sinner,  the 
regeneration  and  sanctification  of  the  soul,  the  highest 
endeavors  of  human  energy  divinely  assisted,  for  the 
correction  of  private  and  social  wrongs  and  the  eleva- 
tion of  the  race  ;  the  essential  vigor  and  immortality  of 
the  inner  life,  and  the  final  salvation  of  the  soul ;  and 
this  is  what  we  mean  by  victory. 

K  you  glance  at  the  issues  which  are  made  in  this 
life-battle,  you  will  see  how  faith  is  the  grand  element 
of  power.  Suppose  the  contest  is  with  the  senses  of  the 
body,  faith  then  takes  up  the  inquiry  where  sight 
leaves  it,  and  leads  the  spirit  on  to  worlds  unknown  to 
sense,  and  uncovers  the  realities  of  eternity. 

Suppose  the  contest  to  be  with  the  animal  appetites 
of  the  body,  faith,  as  you  see,  calls  in  most  potent  spir- 
itual agencies  to  the  aid  of  the  spiritual  man — supj^resses 
and  conquers  the  rebellion  of  the  flesh.  It  calls  up  the 
higher  nature  of  man,  and  develops  the  pure  and  prac- 
tical reason.     Faith  is  on  the  side  of  conscience,  and  it 


6ib  THE   NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

consequently  secures  the  triumj)h  of  tlie  moral  over  tlie 
auiinal  constitution  of  man.  It  exalts  liim  in  tlie  scale 
of  being  to  liis  intended  spliere  of  dignity  and  ]X)wer. 

If  you  refer  to  the  contest  with  the  fixed  local  condi- 
tion of  the  body,  you  see  how  faith  takes  the  spirit  from 
its  prison  and  bears  it  upward  to  the  abode  of  the  great 
God,  and  reveals  the  glory  ineffable  where  saints  and 
angels  and  the  w^orld's  Redeemer  meet. 

"  Faith  lends  its  realizing  light, 

The  clouds  disperse,  the  shadows  fly  ; 
The  invisible  appears  in  sight, 
And  God  is  seen  by  mortal  eye." 

Suppose,  again,  the  contest  to  be  with  the  spirit  itself, 
see  how  faith  comes  to  the  help  of  the  man  who  grap- 
ples with  his  own  ignorance.  Faith  in  God  is  the  life 
of  the  scholar,  the  powder  by  which  he  surmounts  diffi- 
culties otherwise  insuperable.  Faith  reveals  the 
strength  of  his  own  assisted  powers;  gives  him  clear- 
ness of  vision,  precision  of  thought,  and  force  of  will ; 
for  the  light  of  God  shines  into  the  soul,  and  the  life  of 
God  energizes  the  powders  of  the  believing  man. 

In  the  study  of  divine  things,  faith  alone  reveals  the 
soul  of  eternal  truth,  and  strengthens  the  mind  to  grasp 
and  appropriate  it.  Evangelical  faith  recognizes  the 
relations  oi  the  soul  to  Jesus  Christ,  and  draws  from  the 
atonement  the  elemen's  of  a  new  and  vigorous  life.  It 
strengthens  every  power  of  the  intellect  and  heart,  and 
secures  splendid  victory  when  otherwise  there  would  be 
disgraceful  defeat.  It  brings  the  Holy  Ghost  into  the 
soul  of  the  inquirer,  and  uncovers  the  sources  of  sjDiritual 
knowledge,  as  they  are  "hid  in  God,"  in  the  vast  crea- 
tion, and  in  the  laws  of  Providence. 

Faith  is  the  grand  power  in  the  spiritual  battle.  It 
grapples  ^vith  the  mere  animal  and  the  infidel  in 
man.     It  conquers  the  depravity  of  his  heart,  when  that 


THE   LTFE   BATTLE.  377 

power  is  more  than  a  match  for  his  highest  intelligence 
and  firmest  resolutions.  It  brings  the  heart  into  con- 
tact with  the  atonement,  and  "  the  blood  of  Jesns  Christ 
cleanses  from  all  sin." 

If  yon  pass  to  the  sphere  of  the  spirit's  battle  with 
outward  foes,  you  will  see  that  here  also  it  conquers  only 
by  faith.  The  men  who  perform  prodigies  of  valor  are 
the  men  who  believe  they  can  do  it.  Tlie  great  Napo- 
leon, as  he  went  from  field  to  field,  from  carnage  to  car- 
nage, through  his  campaigns  in  Italy  and  on  the  Rhine, 
and  through  the  principal  kingdoms  of  Europe,  dethron- 
ing and  enthroning  monarchs  at  his  pleasure,  believed 
himself  and  his  legions  invincible.  And  yet  this  strong 
belief  only  illustrates  the  power  of  true  faith  which  sus- 
tains the  heart  and  nerves  the  arm  of  the  spiritual  war- 
rior. Such  a  man,  however  obscure  in  his  origin  or  weak 
in  himself,  is  surely  invincible.  God  will  defend  his 
head  and  shield  his  heart  in  the  day  of  battle,  against 
the  assaults  of  the  strongest  foe,  and  bear  him  in  tri- 
umph from  the  field  of  the  slain,  a  victor  over  the 
world,  the  fiesh,  and  the  devil.  But  he  who  undertakes 
the  battles  of  life  with  no  faith,  leaning  only  upon  finite 
power,  is  already  a  conquered  man. 

Mark,  therefore,  that  this  "  good  fight "  is,  in  every 
condition  of  success,  a  "  fight  of  faith."  Tliis  one  con- 
dition enters  into,  modifies,  and  controls  all  others. 

2.  The  mctory  o/nd  awards  have  their  time. 

They  are  not  in  all  cases  immediately  declared,  God 
sees  proper  to  defer  them,  for  reasons  that  are  well  un- 
derstood by  himself.  The  great  warrior  must  become 
inured  to  the  difliculties  of  the  contest.  He  must  be 
educated  for  great  achievements  by  patient,  enduring 
eflforts,  amid  stern  conflicts  and  deep  distress.  He  may 
be  destined  to  long  years  of  struggling  poverty  and  per- 
sonal  degradation.     He   may  spend  weary   days    and 


37S  THE    NEW    YOKK    PULPIT. 

nights  in  contest  with  an  enfeebled  body  and  a  fallen 
soul,  with  unyielding  matter  and  malevolent  spirits,  and, 
to  the  outward  eye  he  may  be  all  this  time  only  an 
object  of  pity,  when  in  reality  he  is  one  of  God's  heroes. 
There  is  scarcely  a  man  of  genius  and  of  might  in  the 
history  of  the  race,  who  has  not,  at  one  time  or  another, 
seen  pointed  at  him  the  finger  of  scorn,  and  felt  the  an- 
noyance of  petty  criticisms  from  inflated,  contemptible, 
little  minds,  while  in  his  far-seeing  benevolence  and 
profound  humility  he  was  striving  to  bow  himself  low 
enough  to  get  his  trusty  shoulder  under  the  burdens  of 
the  world's  enormous  woes !  Surely  it  is  safe  to  work 
and  wait.  Tlie  triumph  of  faith,  though  long  deferred, 
is  yet  inevitable,  for  it  depends  upon  the  changeless  laws 
of  the  moral  universe — upon  the  immutable  decrees  of 
the  infinite  God. 

It  will  sometimes  occur  that  the  victory  and  the 
awards  will  be  simultaneous.  Indeed  there  is  a  high 
sense  in  which  resistance  to  evil  and  efibrts  for  the  right 
are  their  own  reward.  The  soul,  even  in  the  midst  of  its 
darkest  trials,  feels  a  relief  and  a  happiness  arising  from 
the  consciousness  of  moral  integrity  and  the  fact  of 
sufi'ering  in  a  righteous  cause,  which  no  cowardly  slave 
of  passion  or  of  popular  prejudice  could  understand,  if 
it  were  described  to  him,  or  even  approach  without 
agony. 

Progressive  conquests  and  rewards  are  the  experience 
of  every  Christian  soldier.  He  finds  them  in  the  visible 
retreat  of  his  vanquished  foes,  in  the  increasing  clear- 
ness of  his  convictions,  and  power  of  his  faith,  in  the 
ease  with  which  he  now  triumphs  where  once  he  was 
nearly  slain,  and  in  the  accumulating  evidences  of  the 
presence  and  approbation  of  his  Master.  In  addition  to 
all  this,  he  knows  that  however  much  he  may  sufier,  he 
is  destined  finally  to  triumph.     Fall  when  he  may,  the 


THE   LIFE   BATTLE.  3Y9 

crown  is  liis,  and  in  the  thickest  of  the  fight,  faith 
beholds  that  glittering  crown  in  the  hands  of  the  Judge, 
urging  him  to  deeds  of  valor  in  the  field  of  strife,  of 
suflfering,  and  of  blood. 

The  death  of  the  body  must  precede  the  final  award. 
The  soul  must  drop  this  cumbrous  claj  before  it  can 
soar  to  its  home,  in 

"The  palace  of  angels  and  God." 

It  does  not,  cannot  realize  its  destiny  here,  where  weari- 
ness and  slumbers,  pains  and  conflicts  absorb  so  much 
of  his  time,  and  dull  matter  so  restricts  the  sj)here  of  its 
observations  and  eflforts.  It  is  evident  that  God  intends 
its  release.  Disease  and  various  known  and  unknown 
mysterious  agencies  attack  the  clay  tenement  from  with- 
out, and  the  struggling  mind  presses  it  hard  from  within. 
It  will  soon  fall,  and  the  seraphic  soul,  with  a  shout  of 
triumph,  will  fly  to  the  bosom  of  God. 

3.  The  Victory  and  Awards  have  their  Yahce. 

But  who  can  estimate  it  ?  Determine  the  value  of 
full  and  final  deliverance  from  the  crimes,  the  corrup- 
tions, and  consequences  of  sin ;  of  confirmation  in  virtue 
and  piety ;  of  deep  communion  with  God  and  a  life  of 
usefulness,  to  which  an  angel  might  aspire  ;  of  a  holy 
triumph  in  death  ;  of  a  home  with  God  in  paradise  ;  of 
a  glorious  resurrection  when  the  world  is  on  fire  ;  of  the 
approbation  of  the  Judge  in  the  last  great  day ;  of  the 
escape  of  a  sinner  from  the  flames  of  hell ;  of  eternal 
happiness  where  "  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling  and 
the  weary  are  forever  at  rest ;"  of  the  eternal  pro- 
gression of  the  soul  in  holy  love  and  moral  power ; 
where  God  smiles,  where  angels  sing,  and  the  ransomed 
of  the  Lord  shout  their  triumphs  forever  ; — ^fully  estimate 
all  this,  and  you  will  know  the  value  of  the  victory  and 


380  THE   NEW   YORK   PULPIT. 

the  awards  offered  to  the  Christian  warrior  who  acquits 
himself  manfully  in  the  life-battle  of  ]3robation. 

"Where  are  you  in  this  contest  ?  Are  you  on  the  side 
of  right  ?  Do  you  obey  the  apostolic  charge,  "  fight  the 
good  fight  of  faith  ?"  Are  you  to  be  finally  crowned  as 
a  moral  hero  in  the  world's  great  battle  ? 

Ah!  in  the  midst  of  the  brave  old  veterans  of  the 
cross,  my  eye  rests  upon  multitudes  who  have  just 
entered  the  army  of  the  Lord — I  hear  them  exulting 
that  they  are  on  the  Lord's  side  ;  that  they  fight  in  the 
ranks  of  the  redeemed  in  this  contest ;  that  the  arm  of 
divine  power  is  around  tliem,  and  the  Almighty  will 
shield  them  in  the  day  of  battle.  "Welcome,  young 
soldiers  of  the  cross !  Obey  your  great  commander,  and 
no  weapon  formed  against  you  shall  prevail.  "  Be  strong 
in  the  Lord  and  in  the  power  of  his  might.  Put  on  the 
whole  armor  of  God,  that  ye  may  be  able  to  stand 
against  the  wiles  of  the  devil.  For  we  wrestle  not 
against  flesh  and  blood,  but  against  principalities, 
against  powers,  against  the  rulers  of  the  darkness 
of  this  world,  against  spiritual  wickedness  in  high 
places.  "Wherefore  take  unto  you  the  whole  armor  of 
God;  that  ye  may  be  able  to  withstand  in  the  evil 
day,  and  having  done  all,  to  stand.  Stand,  therefore, 
having  your  loins  girt  about  with  truth,  and  having  on 
the  breast-plate  of  righteousness ;  and  your  feet  shod 
with  a  prej)aration  of  the  gospel  of  peace ;  above  all, 
taking  the  shield  of  faith,  wherewith  ye  shall  be  able  to 
quench  all  the  fiery  darts  of  the  wicked.  And  take  the 
helmet  of  salvation,  and  the  sword  of  the  Spirit,  which 
is  the  word  of  God :  praying  always,  with  all  prayer  and 
supplication  in  the  Spirit,  and  watching  thereunto  with 
all  perseverance."  These  instructions  are  perfect.  Obey 
them,  and  you  are  safe  ;  obey  them,  and  you  may  await 
with  composure  and  with  holy  triumph  the  conflagra- 


THE   LIFE   BATTLE.  381 

tions  of  the  last  great  day,  and  the  moment  of  imion 
with  your  glorified  body,  when  the  assembled  universe 
shall  see  you  crowned. 

"Well  done,  good  and  faithful  servant,  enter  thou 
mto  the  joy  of  thy  Lord."     A.men. 


XXY. 
KOT  FAE  FKOM  THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD. 

BY  WILLIAM  ADAMS,  D.D. 

PaMor  of  the  Madison,  Square  Presbyterian  Church. 

And  one  of  the  scribes  came,  and  having  heard  them  reasoning 
together,  and  perceiving  that  he  had  answered  them  well,  asked  him, 
Which  is  the  first  commandment  of  all  ? 

And  Jesus  answered  him,  the  first  of  all  the  commandments  is, 
Hear,  0  Israel ;  the  Lord  our  God  is  one  Lord : 

And  thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart,  and  with 
all  thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy  mind,  and  with  all  thy  strength.  This  is  the 
first  commandment. 

And  the  second  is  like,  namely  this.  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor 
as  thyself.     There  is  none  other  commandment  greater  than  these. 

And  the  scribe  said  unto  him.  Well,  Master,  thou  hast  said  the 
truth :  for  there  is  one  God ;  and  there  is  none  other  but  he  : 

And  to  love  him  with  all  the  heart,  and  with  all  the  understanding, 
and  with  all  the  soul,  and  with  all  the  strength,  and  to  love  his  neighbor 
as  himself,  is  more  than  all  whole  burnt-offerings  and  sacrifices. 

And  when  Jesus  saw  that  he  answered  discreetly,  he  said  unto  him, 
Thou  art  not  far  from  the  kingdom  of  God.  And  no  man  after  that 
durst  ask  him  any  question. — Mark,  xii.  28-34r. 

The  Triam/aer  in  whicli  the  most  weighty  truths  wero 
taught  by  the  Son  of  God  deserves  our  special  regard. 
Instead  of  bare  and  arid  propositions,  we  have,  very 
frequently,  living  forms,  representative  examples.  Indi- 
viduals, such  as  l^icodemus;  the  rich  young  ruler,  a 
paragon  of  morality  ;  the  scowling  scribe ;  Mary  Mag- 
dalene, who  was  a  penitent  sinner;  the  thoughtful 
doctor  of  the  law,  and  many  others,  representing  each  a 
class  of  the  human  species,  are  brought  into  the  pre- 


NOT    FAR    FROM    THE    KTNOI^OM    OF    GOD.  383 

sence  of  our  Lord,  and  the  conversation  wliicli  follows 
stands  for  all  time,  as  a  precedent  and  a  law.  In  the 
New  Testament,  accordingly,  we  have  not  only  a  series 
of  precepts,  but  a  moving  panorama  of  living  charac- 
ters, who  come  in  contact  with  Jesus  Christ,  propose 
their  questions,  receive  their  answers,  and  pass  along, 
giving  place  to  others  ;  but  their  questions  and  answers 
do  not  pass  away  with  them,  but  remain  forever,  the 
record  of  spiritual  truths  in  a  living  form. 

The  incident  now  before  us  will  illustrate  my  mean- 
ing. Here  was  a  man  who  was  pronounced  by  our 
Lord  to  be  "  not  far  from  the  kingdom  of  God."  If, 
now,  we  shall  be  able  to  understand  the  very  posture 
of  the  mind  here  introduced  and  described,  we  shall 
very  readily  solve  the  question — whether  we  ourselves 
are  near  to  or  remote  from  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

The  individual  here  referred  to  was  a  scribe,  an  eccle- 
siastical lawyer,  learned  in  all  questions  pertaining  to 
the  religion  of  his  country.  As  it  appears  from  the 
narrative  itself  (and  the  method  of  procuring  the  true 
stereoscopic  impression  of  the  whole  scene  is  to  collate 
the  language  of  the  several  evangelists  who  have  re- 
corded it),  he  was  a  listener  to  what  had  occurred 
in  Christ's  conversation  with  other  parties.  The 
Herodians,  designing  to  entrap  him,  had  just  asked 
him  a  question  concerning  the  payment  of  tribute 
4:0  the  Roman  government.  Immediately  after  this, 
tlR^  Sadducees  proposed  to  him  another  question  con- 
cerning the  resurrection.  Both  parties  received  an 
answer,  but  an  answer  so  smooth,  so  adroit,  so  discreet, 
that  they  were  transfixed  on  their  own  dilemmas. 
They  were  baffled  and  silenced,  so  that  they  did  not 
dare  to  ask  him  any  more  questions.  The  scribe, 
who  next  appears  in  view,  a  spectator  of  tlie  scene, 
seems  to  have  been  struck  with  the  peculiarly  neat, 


PSl  THE    NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

wise  and  unanswerable  language  of  onr  Lord.  It 
evinced  an  accurate  knowledge  of  the  Scriptures.  Wish- 
ing to  ascertain  more  of  this  extraordinary  stranger,  and 
to  improve  the  opportunity  for  solving  certain  matters 
which  had  long  been  upon  his  own  mind,  he  now  steps 
forward,  and  proposes  a  question  to  our  Lord,  for  him- 
self. His  purpose  in  so  doing,  we  must  believe,  was 
honest,  his  disposition  was  good.  Matthew,  indeed, 
says,  that  the  lawyer  asked  the  question  "terrvpting 
him."  But  a  very  slight  acquaintance  with  the  lan- 
guage of  the  New  Testament,  satisfies  one  that  the  word 
thus  rendered  is  used  in  a  good  sense  as  well  as  a  bad. 
If  in  some  instances  it  obviously  imports  a  malignant 
design,  such  as  solicitation  to  evil,  or  ensnaring  one 
in  mischief,  in  others,  it  is  used,  just  as  obviously, 
in  the  general  sense  of  proving  one  for  the  purpose  of 
ascertaining  his  opinions  and  character.  Beyond  all  ques- 
tion, this  was  the  intention  of  the  individual  now  before 
us.  There  was  no  malign  purpose  in  his  hea.rt,  for,  had 
there  been,  our  Lord  never  would  have  said  that  he  was 
near  to  the  kingdom  of  God.  Convinced  that  the  man 
who,  in  his  hearing,  had  just  before  refuted  the  Herodians 
and  the  Sadducees  so  cleverly,  must  have  still  farther 
knowledge  of  the  Scriptures,  and  wishing  himself  to 
obtain  information  pertinent  to  his  own  profession,  he  also 
asked  a  question  which  was  intended  to  develop  the 
character  of  the  man  in  whose  presence  he  stood. 
Tlie  question  proposed  was  this :  "  Master,  which  is 
the  first  commandment  of  all  ?"  To  redeem  this 
inquiry  from  the  appearance  of  frivolity,  it  should  be 
borne  in  mind  that  this  was  a  point  long  mooted  by  the 
Jewish  teachers,  whether  the  law  of  sacrifice,  or  the  law 
of  circumcision,  or  the  law  of  the  Sabbath,  or  the  law 
of  the  phylacteries,  should  have  the  precedence.  Our 
Lord  answered  the  question  thus  proposed,  by  reciting 


NOT   FAR   FROM   THE   KINGDOM   OF   GOD.  385 

sentences  wliicli  were  written  in  the  j)liylacteries  them- 
selves ;  the  compendium  of  the  moral  laAv.  Taking  no 
notice  wliatever  of  those  disputed  questions  concerning 
the  ceremonial  law,  he  reliearsed  at  once  the  substance 
of  the  divine  statute  which  epitomizes  all  morals :  "  Thou 
shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart,  and  with 
all  thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy  mind,  and  with  all  thy 
strength.  This  is  the  first  commandment."  And  the 
scribe  exclaimed  :  "  Master,  thou  hast  answered  welV 

Our  English  word  well  does  not  exhaust  the  meaning 
of  the  Greek  KaXcjg  — beautifully — excellently — convey- 
ing the  high  satisfaction  which  was  felt  with  that  reply. 
It  was  an  answer  which  corresponded  to  his  own  judg- 
ment. AYhat  are  forms  and  ritualisms — burnt-offeriiigs 
and  sacrifices,  in  comparison  with  the  temper  of  the 
heart,  the  right  quality  of  the  afiections!  When  our 
Lord  perceived  the  heartiness  and  discretion  with  which 
the  scribe  responded  to  his  own  saying,  he  said  unto 
him,  "  Thou  art  not  far  from  the  kingdom  of  GodP 
He  afiirmed  not  that  this  man  was  in  the  kingdom,  but 
that  he  was  near  to  it ;  far  nearer  than  if  his  manner, 
his  disposition,  his  opinions  had  been  other  than  they 
were.  Few  words  need  be  expended  in  proving  that  the 
expression,  "  kingdom  of  God,"  signifies,  in  this  connec- 
tion, that  state  of  blessed  security  which  is  revealed  and 
proftered  to  us  in  the  gospel.  It  indicates  that  condition 
of  things  which  is  by  Jesus  Christ  insuring  man's  highest 
welfare  for  this  life,  and  for  the  life  which  is  to  come. 
Whether  the  person  here  conversing  with  Christ  actually 
entered  within  the  kingdom,  receiving  the  gos2:)el,  and 
the  salvation  of  liis  soul,  we  are  not  informed.  ITo  fur- 
ther mention  is  made  of  hiB  case;  lie  it^  not  introduced 
again  in  the  sacred  annals  ;  the  curtain  drops  just  at  this 
time  and  place ;  so  that  we  cannot  even  conjecture 
whether,  improving  his  advantages,  he  pressed  on  yet 

17 


SS6  THE    NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

farther,  even  within  the  precincts  of  safety,  or,  with- 
drawing his  foot,  retreated  to  a  greater  distance  from  the 
kingdom  of  God.  The  point  of  greatest  interest  to  ns  is 
that  which  is  disclosed  in  this  one  interview  and  conver- 
sation. If  this  individual  evinced  a  condition  of  char- 
acter w^hich  brought  him  into  a  critical  nearness  to  the 
Icingdom  of  Heaven,  it  is  of  great  concern  to  each  and 
all  of  ns  to  know  what  that  condition  was,  that  we  may 
measure  our  own  relations  to  the  redemption  of  the  Son 
of  God. 

Our  wisdom,  therefore,  is  to  ascertain,  if  it  be  pos- 
sible, what  there  was  peculiar  to  the  individual  thus 
described,  which  drew  forth  this  judgment  from  our 
Lord,  "Thou  art  not  far  from  the  kingdom  of  God?" 
The  only  source  of  knowledge  which  is  open  to  us,  in 
reference  to  this  inquiry,  is  the  narrative  itself. 

The  first  thing,  of  a  hopeful  character,  in  the  state 
of  this  individual,  was  that  he  was  disposed  toj)ress  an 
honest  mid  earnest  inqxiiry  after  truth. 

We  are  constrained  to  believe  that  this  was  the  case, 
from  all  the  attendant  circumstances.  He  v/as  not  a 
skeptic ;  he  was  not  stupidly  indifierent ;  he  was  not  a 
crafty  opponent ;  but  he  was  disposed  to  inquire  after 
the  truth.  This  w^as  decidedly  auspicious  and  hoj^eful. 
The  first  thing  which  the  truth  of  God  demands  is  a  mind 
open  and  attentive  to  receive  it.  The  greatest  censure 
which  Scripture  and  observation  compel  us  to  pass  upon 
multitudes  of  men  is,  that  though  the  light  shines  they 
will  not  receive  it.  The  doors  and  the  windows  are 
barred  closely  against  it.  The  mind  has  no  interest  i]i 
tlie  truth  ;  profoundly  insensible  to  its  existence.  A  dis- 
i30sition  to  ask  for  the  truth,  to  inquire  for  instruction,  is 
die  first  sign  of  spiritual  vitality.  Inasmuch  as  the 
truth  of  God  is  nigh  to  us,  flowing  around  us  like  the 
air,  sliining  about  us  like  the  sun,  the  opening  of  the 


NOT  FAR  FROM  THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD.       387 

mind  to  acquire  it  advances  one  immediately  into  tlie 
most  auspicious  proximity  to  its  blessings. 

Tlie  tlioughtful  teacher  of  tlie  law  was  favored  with 
the  opportunity  of  a  personal  conversation  with  Christ. 
That  is  denied  to  us ;  but  we  possess  what  is  better  and 
greater.  The  kingdom  of  God  has  had  a  fuller  disclo- 
sure since  that  day  when  the  Son  of  Man  held  these  me- 
morable conversations  in  Jerusalem.  The  redemption 
which  is  by  Jesus  Christ  is  amply  revealed ;  and  that 
revelation  is  given  to  us  in  a  written  form.  Kemote 
from  all  the  benefits  of  the  gospel  are  all  they  who  feel 
not  interest  enough  therein  to  consult  the  pages  of  in- 
spiration with  a  candid  and  earnest  spirit.  Tlieir  faces 
are  actually  averted  from  the  light ;  their  backs  are 
turned  upon  the  kingdom  of  God. 

The  first  step — and  that  stej)  advances  one  farther  than 
may  be  supposed — is  wdien  he  begins  with  personal  in- 
terest to  ask  for  the  way  of  truth.  That  way  is  so  plain 
and  infallible  that  to  inquire  for  it  is  to  find  it.  Show 
me  the  man  who,  roused  out  of  apathy,  is  inquisitive  af- 
ter the  way  of  the  Lord ;  who  is  earnest  for  the  solution  of 
those  questions  which  have  agitated  his  soul ;  who  daily 
seeks  for  light  and  truth  out  of  the  oracles  of  God,  even 
as  he  would  have  hung  upon  the  lips  of  Christ  in  the  days 
of  his  flesh ;  who  is  alert  to  improve  every  opportunity 
and  help  within  his  reach  for  acquiring  that  knowledge 
which  is  eternal  life  ;  and  I  will  show  you  now  the  very 
man  who  is  not  far  from  the  kingdom  of  God.  The  only 
thing  which  separates  one  from  the  abundant  blessings 
which  are  in  Christ  is  that  opaque,  inert  condition  of 
mind  and  heart  which  is  likened  unto  death.  To  give 
heed,  to  inquire,  to  be  candid,  honest,  earnest  in  seek- 
ing, at  the  words  of  Christ,  what  is  needful  for  us  to 
know,  is  to  begin  to  live.  Deepen  this  spirit  of  earnest 
inquisitiveness,  and  you  bring  one  nearer  and  nearer  to 


388  THE    NEW    YORK    PULl'IT. 

the  kingdom  of  God.  Eyes  that  are  shut  cannot  see  the 
light.  Let  the  senses  be  opened,  and  we  may  liope  for 
the  spiritual  discernment  which  brings  salvation. 

Indispensable  as  is  this  earnest  action  of  the  mind,  it 
is  only  initiatory.  That  which  shows  a  more  decided 
advance  tow^ards  the  kingdom  of  God,  is  a  correct 
judgment  as  to  the  import  of  the  divine  law.  Tlie 
gospel  of  Jesus  Christ  is  designed  to  be  remedial  of  all 
those  defects  which  are  under  the  law.  The  conscious- 
ness of  those  defects  must  spring  from  a  knowledge  of 
the  law  itself.  That  which  was  the  most  hopeful  of  all 
things  in  the  condition  of  this  scribe  w^as,  that  he  had  a 
true  discernment  of  the  spiritual  nature  of  the  divine 
commandment.  In  his  judgment,  holocansts,  oblations, 
forms,  rites,  were  of  no  account  compared  with  that 
suj)reme  love,  which  is  the  one  essential  law  of  our  being. 
He  who  has  reached  this  conviction  will  be  likely  to 
reach  the  conviction  also  that  by  that  law  of  judgment  he 
is  impeached  of  a  vast  deficiency ;  and  for  this  there  is  no 
remedy  but  in  the  grace  of  the  Son  of  God.  The  law 
is  the  schoolmaster  who  leads  us  to  Christ.  I^ot  fiir 
from  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  he  who  beholds  himself 
in  the  perfect  law  of  his  Maker,  while  the  gospel  will  be 
an  enio:ma  and  a  stumblino^-block  to  all  such  as  discern 
not  the  spirituality  of  the  divine  statute. 

To  illustrate  the  many  mistakes  of  men  in  reference  to 
this  vital  subject,  the  New  Testament  j^resents  us  with 
several  tableaux  of  living  personages.  One  resembles, 
as  to  the  outward  appearance,  the  scribe  introduced  into 
tliis  narrative.  He  was  a  magistrate,  in  the  prime  of 
life,  of  great  wealth,  and  altogether,  as  to  position  and 
character,  the  elite  of  the  land.  He,  too,  displayed  an 
unusual  earnestness  in  his  interview  with  our  Lord. 
Seeing  him  apj)roach,  he  ran,  fell  on  his  knees  before 
Him,  saying,   "Master,  good  Master,  what  good  thing 


NOT    FAK    FROM    THE    KTN^GDOM    OF    GOD.  389 

Bliall  I  do  tliat  I  may  inherit  eternal  life  ?"  However 
mistaken  and  imj^ertinent  the  answers  wliicli  we  may- 
give  to  such  a  question,  our  Lord  never  misjudged  the 
character  of  individuals.  The  question  proposed  by  this 
ornate  moralist  gives  us  the  first  glimpse  of  his  character. 
"  What  good  tiling  shall  /  do  that  I  may  inherit  eter- 
nal life  ?"  "If  you  are  resolute  in  your  determination," 
says  Christ,  "  at  legal  per-^ection,  the  category  of  duty  is 
briefly  summed  :  Keep  the  commandments."  "  What 
commandments?"  was  the  quick  and  eager  inquiry. 
"  Those,  of  course,  which  compose  the  moral  law.  Tliou 
shalt  do  no  murder ;  thou  shalt  not  commit  adultery ; 
thou  shalt  not  steal ;  honor  thy  father  and  thy  mother  ; 
all  of  which  may  be  summed  up  in  the  one  comprehen- 
sive requirement — ^Thou-  shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as 
thyself."  With  the  utmost  promptness  and  decision 
the  young  man  replied  :  "  Why,  all  these  I  have  kept 
from  my  childhood.      What  lack  lyetV 

Our  Lord  looked  at  him  steadfastly ;  his  calm  eye, 
reading  that  soul  through  and  through ;  when,  breaking 
the  silence  of  that  prolonged  gaze  he  said  :  "  One  thing 
thou  lackest — ^if  thou  wilt  he  perfect — if  thou  wilt  esta- 
blish thy  claim  to  a  legal  obedience  which  hath  no 
flaw — go  sell  all  thy  possessions,  give  to  the  poor, 
and  come  take  up  thy  cross  and  follow  me,  and  thou 
shalt  have  treasure  in  heaven."  'Eo  one  who  is  not  dis- 
posed to  cavil  at  the  letter  can  misunderstand  the  mean- 
ing of  this  direction.  He  would  only  display  his  own 
petulancy  and  folly  who  should  complain  that  this  was 
an  unreasonable  demand  made  by  Christ  of  all  his  dis- 
ciples, and  that  this,  indeed,  was  a  hard  saying,  that 
every  man  must  part  with  all  his  worldly"  estate  before 
he  can  prove  himself  entitled  to  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 
The  passage  contains  no  such  sentiment,  and  the  gospel 
presents  no  such  condition.   Here  was  a  man  who,  by  his 


390  THE    NEW   YORK   PULPIT. 

own  words,  declared  a  wish,  and  expectation  to  inherit 
eternal  life  on  the  grotmd  of  perfect  obedience.  Upon 
that  ground,  the  ground  which  he  had  chosen,  our  Lord 
meets  him,  and  for  the  pur]3ose  of  convincing  him  that 
his  legal  obedience  was  fatally  defective,  he  proposes  a 
test  to  prove  it.  You  will  observe  that  in  the  command- 
ments specified  in  the  first  instance,  Christ  referred  only 
to  those  which  belonged  to  the  second  table ;  of  course 
the  same  which  are  comprised  in  every  code  of  decent 
morality.  Asserting  his  conformity  to  these,  the  ruler 
inquired  with  somewhat  of  pertness — "  "What  lack  I  yet?" 
"  One  thing;'  says  Christ,  "  and  that  THE  WHOLE." 
To  prove  to  this  man's  own  conscience  that  he  was  alto- 
gether defective  in  that  supreme  love  for  his  Maker, 
which  is  the  essence  of  the  whole  divine  legislation — ^lie 
presented  to  him  a  simple  test,  which  was  explosive  of  his 
hopes.  Tlie  truth  was,  that  beneath  all  that  fair  and  fasci- 
nating exterior  there  was  a  heart  of  idolatry.  This  man 
loved  his  money  more  than  he  loved  his  God.  Tlie  finger 
of  the  physician  was  laid  upon  the  very  tenderness  and 
soreness  of  the  disease.  He  had  asked — what  he  did 
lach? — and  the  answer  came,  with  such  a  look  and 
emphasis  as  convinced  him  that  he  lacked  everything. 
The  bolt  hit  the  conscience  in  the  core.  He  went  away 
grieved.  Trusting  in  his  own  obedience,  he  had  asked 
how  to  inherit  eternal  life,  and  he  had  received  a  response 
which  proved  that  no  obedience  of  his  had  been  commen- 
surate with  the  holy  law  of  God,  which  r(>quires  a  love 
which  is  cordial,  a  love  which  is  universal,  a  love  which 
is  supreme.  The  probe  did  its  ofiice  ;  and  this  very  man, 
who  a  few  minutes  before  embraced  the  knees  of  Christ 
with  fervid  emotion,  now  turned  away  from  him  with  sad- 
ness, because  the  words  which  He  had  uttered  proved  to 
his  own  consciousness  that  he  loved  his  riches  more  than 
^  -■*  loyed  his  God — more  than  he  loved  his  fellow-man. 


NOT   FAR   FROM   THE   KINGDOM   OF   GOD.  391 

It  is  not  said  of  this  man  that  he  was  near  the  kingdom 
of  God.  Whether  he  ever  abandoned  his  ideas  of  legal 
perfection,  and  accepted  the  grace  of  his  Redeemer  we 
know  not ;  but  this  we  know,  that  an  honest  admission 
of  what  the  divine  law  is,  and  what  it  requires,  is  a  pre- 
requisite to  salvation  through  the  Son  of  God. 

As  if  to  make  this  one  point  clear  beyond  all  doubt, 
a  third  person  is  introduced  on  a  third  occasion,  and 
he  also  was  a  lawyer  of  the  church.  The  cast  of  his 
mind  diflered  from  those  which  we  have  considered 
already.  He,  too,  inquired,  "  Master,  what  shall  I  do 
to  inherit  eternal  life  ?"  And  Christ  answered  him : 
"  What  is  written  in  the  law  ?  how  readest  thou  ?"  And 
he  answering  said  :  "  Tliou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God, 
with  all  thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy  soul,  and  with  all 
thy  strength*,  and  with  all  thy  mind,  and  thy  neighbor 
as  thyself."  And  He  said  unto  him  :  "  Thou  hast  an- 
swered right ;  this  do,  and  thou  shalt  live."  But  this 
inquirer,  addicted  to  a  literal  and  superficial  construc- 
tion, was  willing  to  justify  himself,  and  asked,  "  AYho 
is  my  neighbor  ?  Then  followed  the  parable  of  the  good 
Samaritan — the  full  meaning  of  which  is  not  understood, 
except  we  bear  in  mind  the  man  and  the  circumstances 
which  called  it  forth.  It  may  seem  to  us  like  a  beauti- 
ful painting,  but  it  was  like  one  of  those  pictures  in  the 
Interpreter's  House,  which  gleamed  terror  on  the  soul  of 
the  Pilgrim,  making  him  to  tremble  like  an  aspen  leaf. 
Both  of  these  incidents  had  a  common  design — to  con- 
vince the  men  here  described  that  their  obedience  to 
the  law  of  God  was  altogether  defective — the  one 
having  no  love  for  his  Maker,  the  other  no  love  of  the 
right  quality  for  his  fellow-man. 

These  interpretations  of  law  are  interpretations  of  our- 
selves ;  and  no  man  is  near  to  the  kingdom  of  God — as 
that  expression    is    used    by    Jesus    Christ — salvation 


392  THE   NEW    YOKK    PULPIT. 

tlirougli  redeeming  grace,  without  merit  of  our  own — 
whose  self-comphicency  has  never  been  dissipated  by  a 
right  discernment  of  the  law.  The  law  never  can  save 
us,  and  he  is  the  nearest  to  the  forgiveness  of  the  gospel, 
who,  with  a  contrite  heart,  discerns  most  clearly,  and  feels 
most  profoundly,  that  perfection  of  the  divine  statute, 
which  impeaches  and  condemns  us.  Tlie  publican, 
standing  afar  off  from  the  throng  of  worshippers,  was 
already  within  the  kingdom  of  God,  while  the  conceited 
Pharisee,  pressing  up  to  the  chief  places  of  the  temple- 
courts,  and  foremost  in  his  religious  histrionism,  w^as  far 
removed  from  the  grace  of  the  Redeemer. 

Our  discourse,  however,  intends  something  more  than 
the  analysis  of  an  historic  incident.  From  the  instance 
which  is  here  recorded,  I  turn  to  that  which  occurs  in 
these  living  hearts  before  me.  Would  you  compute 
aright  your  own  relations  to  the  kingdom  of  God,  mea- 
suring your  own  proximity  to  those  incomparable 
benefits  in  the  gift  of  the  Redeemer,  answer  to  your- 
self, whether  there  has  been  any  change  as  to  the 
interest  you  feel  for  the  wise  provision  of  your  im- 
mortal spirit.  The  time  was,  it  may  be,  when  you 
were  conscious  of  a  most  profound  indifference  to  the 
love  which  passeth  knowledge,  and  to  the  wrath  to 
come.  Is  it  so — that  by  influences,  which  you  can 
neither  control  nor  describe,  you  have  come  to  feel  a 
want  that  has  never  been  met,  and  to  inquire  for  a  good 
which  never  yet  has  been  found  ?  Does  it  seem  as  if  a 
veil  had  been  withdrawn  from  before  your  mind,  so 
that  in  hours  of  deep  and  earnest  thinking,  objects 
wliich  you  never  believed  before,  seem  to  start  out 
from  the  shadows,  as  if  just  created  ? 

Have  you  begun  to  knock  at  those  gates  of  wisdom, 
where  you  never  knocked  before  ?  Have  you  begun  to 
pray  for  divine  help  in  the  solution  of  those  spiritual 


r 


NOT  FAR  FROM  THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD       393 

mysteries  which  agitate  you  ?  Have  you  felt  that  your 
pride  was  melting  down  into  a  meek  and  gentle  desire 
to  know  the  way  of  the  Lord  more  perfectly  ?  Are  you 
a  candid,  diligent  reader  of  the  Scriptures,  and  do  you 
ask  that  your  soul  may  be  illuminated,  quickened,  and 
inclined  aright? 

Have  you  been  conscious  of  some  new  discernment  of 
the  divine  law,  admiring  it  as  the  expression,  not  of 
cruel  severity,  but  of  God's  infinite  benignity  ;  clear  as 
crystal,  and  glorious  as  this  Sabbath  firmament  ?  and  does 
there  gleam  across  your  mind,  at  times  the  thought  of 
what  you  are,  when  judged  by  that  perfect  command- 
ment ?  Times  in  which  the  truth  will  grapple  with  you, 
as  a  mighty  wrestler,  in  whose  grasp  your  strength 
withers,  that,  if  you  love  anything  in  the  universe 
more  than  your  Maker,  then,  indeed,  you  are  an  iclola- 
tor — whether  that  object  of  preference  be  hideous  as  a 
hydra,  or  fascinating  as  a  syren  ?  Ai-e  you  ever  startled 
by  the  thought  of  what  the  issue  must  be,  if  your  self- 
assertion  should  never  bow  itself  in  happy  submission  to 
God,  and  your  soul,  with  such  a  purpose  should  be  set 
free,  amid  the  powers  of  a  changeless  eternity  ?  Does  the 
conviction,  sometimes  clear  and  strong,  amid  all  your 
gains  and  profits,  plough  through  your  deepest  conscious- 
ness, that  you  need  out  of  yourself,  just  that  which  the 
Christ  of  God  ofi'ers  to  give  you — pardon,  hope,  peace, 
suretyship,  salvation  ? 

My  dear  friend,  amid  all  these  agitations,  self-judg- 
ments, depressions,  inquiries,  gropings,  if  you  did 
buf  know  it,  you  are  not  far  from  the  kingdom  of 
God.  You  may  be  ready  to  judge  yourself  at  a  hopeless 
distance ;  but  your  condition  is  a  thousand  fold  more 
hopeful  than  it  was  before  you  awoke  to  this  conscious 
sensibility.  You  feel  that  you  are  sick — and  lo!  the 
physician  is  at  your  bed  side ;  the  wound  pains  you ; 

17* 


394  THE    NEW    YORK    PULPIT. 

tlie  balsam  is  nigli  at  hand.     You  have  discovered  that 
you  are  in  want,  and  hard  by  is  all  the  fullness  of  God. 

It  is  a  great  thing  to  be  near  the  kingdom  of  God, 
because  it  is  such  a  great  thing  actually  to  be  within  it. 
All  that  is  not  within  is  without.  It  is  not  enough  to 
be  near  salvation — we  must  he  saved.  I  need  not  inform 
an  intelligent  hearer,  that  the  condition  I  have  de- 
scribed is  peculiarly  critical.  In  that  immediate  vicinity 
to  the  help  which  he  needs,  he  stands  balancing  him- 
self on  the  question,  whether  he  will  advance  or  retreat, 
whether  he  will  press  on  and  cross  the  threshold,  or  turn 
back,  and  prove  himself  not  fit  for  the  kingdom  of  God. 

To  remember  that  once  we  were  near  the  salvation  of 
Christ ;  so  near  that  our  right  hand  might  have  touched 
and  taken  it ;  and,  after  all,  that  hand  w^as  withheld, 
this  is  a  memory  which  will  enhance  remorse  for- 
ever. God  forbid  that  one  of  our  number  should 
at  last  come  short  of  the  proffered  rest:  but  should 
one  from  among  us  fail  of  the  grace  of  God,  the 
recollection  of  his  former  nearness  to  it  will  "  bite  like 
a  serpent  and  sting  like  an  adder."  We  can  all  of  us 
recall  seasons  in  our  lives  when,  in  a  special  sense, 
we  were  near  to  the  salvation  of  God ;  affliction  had 
mellowed  us — truth  had  stolen  into  our  hearts — we  were 
inclined  to  an  unusual  sobriety — parental  faithfulness 
melted  us ;  but  let  us  never  forget,  that  to  be  almost 
persuaded  to  be  a  Christian  is  not  the  same  as  being  a 
Christian ;  to  walk  around  the  city  of  God  is  not  the 
same  as  to  enter  it :  to  discern  our  need,  great  as  that  is, 
is  not  precisely  the  same  thing  as  to  receive  what  that 
need  requires.  Let  our  subject,  therefore,  plead  with 
all  to  press  into  the  kingdom  of  God.  ISTow,  when 
you  are  so  near  to  its  security — now,  when  its  gates 
stand  open  wide — now,  when  you  can  look  in  upon 
the  brightness  of  the  celestial  metropolis,  and  hear  the 


NOT  FAR  FROM  THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD.       395 

gladness  of  its  music — now,  wlien  invitations  come 
forth  from  the  Spirit  aiid  the  Bride  to  take  of  the  waters 
of  life  freely — now,  when  opportunities  are  so  favor- 
able, w^hen  the  breath  of  prayer  seems  to  waft  you 
upwards — now,  while  God  w^aits  to  be  gracious — now, 
while  He  who  calls  himself  your  Eedeemer,  Saviour, 
Friend,  Physician,  Helper,  is  so  nigh,  avail  yourself 
of  his  offices,  and  live  forever ! 


THE   END. 


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